


Hell Is For Children

by WizardPendragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Musicians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:19:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardPendragon/pseuds/WizardPendragon
Summary: College was hard. Relationships were hard. Dean was trying to balance it all, and he wasn't doing bad. He had a boyfriend, he was in school, he had a decent job, what could go wrong? How was he supposed to know that the people he trusted most he couldn't trust at all? When life left him shattered, who put the pieces back together?





	1. What is love?

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a hot minute since I've really written. I'm rusty af but it's not getting any better until I make myself do it, so here's what I hope will be a coherent story. Sorry for the incredibly dramatic introduction followed by the driest opening chapter ever written. I'm a phoenix, roast me so I can be reborn. Each chapter title is stolen from a song. Some of them I put a lot of thought into and some of them I didn't but they're all good songs!!!

It’s probably past the point where Dean should have bit the bullet and signed up for access to the practice rooms, but he’s put it off for so long now that he’s just too stubborn to change. He jiggled another door handle even though he already knew that never worked. The only way he could get in is if someone else left a door cracked. That happened often enough Dean didn’t usually worry about being able to find a room, but tonight he hadn’t been so lucky. There must have been some kind of event coming up, because so many more of the rooms were occupied than normal. 

Times like this Dean really felt out of place here. He wasn’t a music student, not by a long shot. He was barely a student at all, only taking a handful of engineering classes that he could manage alongside work. These people, this was what they did, and it showed. He paused by one door, watching through the window as a man with dark hair ripped out an impressive run on the cello settled between his legs. It startled Dean when he suddenly looked up, meeting his eyes. Dean’s at such an absolute stop it’s pretty obvious he’d just been watching, but he thinks maybe this guy will key him into one of the rooms. He pointed back at the door he had been jiggling, but the man’s eyebrows just pulled together and his head tilted slightly. Dean’s hand hovered in the air for several moments before it became clear that the man wasn’t going to open the door for him. Maybe some students didn’t like that he was taking up rooms he wasn’t supposed to be. 

Uncomfortable, Dean looked away and hurried down to the end of the hall, peering in each window as he went. There was another empty room, but it was locked too. The hall comes to a dead end, but there’s a little bench there Dean settled himself on, pulling out his phone and hoping to kill some time until someone vacated a room. Half an hour later and the only movement Dean had seen was a saxophone player who left his room only to go to the bathroom, so he thought it might be a good time to call his losses. 

Heading back down the hall, that cellist was still shredding away, and he looked up right as Dean passed his window again. Dean was positive the man has to recognize him, so he lifted his hand up in a little wave. Rather than waving back, the man just stares, hands frozen on his instrument. It was unnerving and again it took Dean too long to realize his own hand is just hanging midair with no response. Making eye contact with someone focused in one of these rooms was always a little awkward, but usually they just carried on and there was no harm done. Dean’s never had someone just stare at him though, nor did he think that he’d ever, in his life, waved at someone who hadn’t waved back. He exited the building in record time, beelining right to his car.

The music building wasn’t exactly along his normal route, but it’s not far enough out of the way that a failed practice session was too much an annoyance. He would usually just go home, but he had an itch to play that he couldn’t quite shake, especially after listening to so many people playing for the last half hour, so he climbed in the back seat. The bench seat style of his old muscle car could come in handy on occasion, and it gave Dean just enough room to get his guitar out in his lap. It was, admittedly, a little chilly, though. Dean knew he’s not going to be able to play too long before his fingers stiffened up. 

Guitar was a pretty simple instrument, at least for what Dean wanted. It hadn’t taken Dean long to pick up at all, not once he sat down with it and really gave it the old college try. He loved music so much it was only natural that he would want to play something. He had been hoping to get a new song under his fingers that night, but given his less-than-ideal environment, he figured something familiar was just fine. 

Halfway through Stairway to Heaven the hairs on Dean’s neck started to stand up, and it’s enough that he couldn’t ignore it. He lifts his head from where he’d been focused on watching his hands, and meets the gaze of the man who he’d been watching earlier. His cello was strapped to his back now, but he still had that vaguely confused expression about him. After a painfully long moment, the man lifted his hand and gave a slow wave. By the time Dean had a chance to process and lift his own hand the man was already walking away. It was incredibly baffling, this whole interaction. Had this man never been waved to? How long had he been standing there watching? Dean couldn’t really judge too much there, not when he’d just been doing the same thing only a handful of minutes ago. He glanced in the direction the man had walked, fingers idly tapping against the strings of his guitar. 

The interruption was enough to leave him feeling unfocused and he tried to start playing a few times again before he decided that tonight just wasn’t going to work. The cold was starting to seep in anyways. Dean packed up his guitar, setting it on the floor in the back and climbing into the front seat to start his car up. The rumble of the engine was loud in the quiet night air, but that was the charm of his old beauty. Led Zeppelin filled the car once more, this time from the radio, and Dean hummed along the short drive back to his apartment. 

He was still humming when he opened the front door, kicking off his shoes almost as soon as he was through the doorway. His roommate looked up from the couch but only for a moment, not to be drawn away from her game for too long. 

“Do you actually play that thing or do you just cart it back and forth?” Charlie’s fingers were still pressing buttons on the controller even as she looked back at Dean again, raising an eyebrow. 

“What?” Dean stood by the end of the couch, watching the screen for a moment. It was a Skyrim mod a group of her friends got together to design, and she’d been playing it close to non-stop for a week. 

“That guitar. Is there even a guitar in there? You’re always just carrying the case around. Is it drugs?” 

“I wouldn’t carry my drugs in a guitar case.” Dean adjusted the strap over his shoulder again, giving his shoulders a small shrug. “Maybe I do just like carrying it around. What’s it to you?” 

“I’m just saying. You already have a boyfriend, who are you trying to impress with a guitar?” Charlie tilted her head back against the couch cushion and grinned up at Dean. “Leave some hot dates out there for the rest of us.” 

“Like you have a problem finding hot dates. Didn’t you just have some hot date coming out of your room the other night?” 

“It’s rude of you to assume anything happened,” Charlie shot back, picking her head up to look back at the screen. “Even though it did.” 

“Even though it did,” Dean mimicked, shaking his head, a fond grin on his lips. Charlie was a catch. She was strictly into girls, though, and at this point she was more like a sister than anything else. Dean liked to see her happy. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” 

“Dinner? Shit, what time is it?” Charlie frowned and reached for her phone. “Eight already? Damnit. I should’ve started working on my paper two hours ago.” 

“So that’s no dinner, then. I’m gonna order a pizza.” 

“Cinnamon sticks too. I’m going to be up all night.” Charlie sighed heavily, staring at the television screen for a long moment before saving and turning it off, looking as if her very soul was being ripped out in the process. Dean rolled his eyes and headed to his room, pulling his phone from his pocket. His guitar went in its normal spot, leaning against a bookshelf, and Dean dropped himself on his bed. There’s a handful of messages from Benny that he scrolls through. Two about work, one about his own dinner, and the last one asking where Dean was. He takes a minute to answer his boyfriend before he switches over to order pizza. It’s not a hard choice, they order from the same few places all the time. He keeps it simple tonight, stuffed crust pepperoni and Charlie’s cinnamon sticks.

Dean had some work to do, too, and he got as far as opening his laptop before his phone was buzzing again. Benny was more frustrated with work than Dean realized, so he decided he was coming over and Dean’s night to work got cut to an hour just like that. “Charlie!” he shouted, waiting for her head to pop through the doorway. 

“What? You can’t order a pizza on your own?” 

“I was going to give you money to pay for it but if you want to keep that up I’ll let you pay for it yourself.” Dean arched an eyebrow, wallet in hand. 

“Nuh-uh, I paid last time.” She held out her hand and Dean slowly pulls out the twenty to cover their dinner, holding it just out of reach so she has to grab for it a few times. Charlie finally grabbed it, smacking Dean’s arm before she headed out of the room. 

Even with homework looming, Dean found himself scrolling through videos on Youtube. He told himself he’s just looking for music, but it took fifteen minutes of shitty comedy videos for him to make it to music. This time it’s ACDC, and immediately his head started bobbing to the beat while he dug out his notebook and opened up the homework on his laptop. He knew that engineering classes were homework heavy, but he still has a hard time not simply getting frustrated with the amount he has and giving up. He didn’t understand how people with schedules packed full of these classes survived. Granted, he probably worked more than most of them, but nights like tonight he had to question if he could really make it through college. 

Dean did the best he could to ignore the knock on the door, Charlie’s conversation with the pizza man, and the smell of food wafting through the apartment, cranking out as much as he can manage before the next knock on the door he knows is Benny. By the time he’s in the living room, Charlie had already let him in. “Evening,” he drawls out, leaving his shoes by Dean’s and opening his arms for a hug that Dean happily stepped into. Benny easily enveloped him in his arms and that was one of the things Dean loved about him. Dean was actually taller than him, but Benny made up for it with how built he was. There was something about him, the way he held himself, that just made him fill up the space around him. That, his big, soft smile, and his low southern twang were what drew Dean to him in the first place. 

“Want some pizza? We could eat and maybe watch something, help you relax.” Benny nodded and Dean reached up to pluck Benny’s hat off his head, setting it on the table by the door and taking his hand to pull him to the kitchen. “What happened?” 

“Todd just doesn’t know how to do his job. I ain’t saying that he’s an idiot, but… The boy must have something wrong with him. Left his station a wreck, didn’t label half of what he prepped, then Joline comes in yelling at me, telling me I’m supposed to be supervising him. He’s been there a month and he can’t handle the simplest jobs we’ve got.” Dean looked to Benny, piling about half the pizza onto his plate for the two of them and handing it to his boyfriend. 

“He’s had problems since he started, hasn’t he?” 

“You’re damn right he has. There’s no issue giving a kid a chance, but I’ve got work to do too.” Benny’s headed to the bedroom already and Dean trailed behind him a moment later with a beer in hand for each of them, pushing his door shut with his foot. "Are we going to be able to eat in here, sugar?" 

“Sorry, let me move my shit.” Dean set the beers on the bedside table and shoveled everything but his laptop into his backpack, climbing onto the bed once it was cleared. “When’s your next meeting with Joline about him? I know you’re supervising him, they should be looking to you for feedback.” 

“I don’t know,” Benny groused, taking a seat next to Dean and starting in on the pizza. “Think they’re too worried about not getting someone else in there, but it doesn’t matter when he’s not doing the work anyways.” 

“Maybe he’ll get his act together,” Dean offered, shrugging his shoulders, grabbing a slice of pizza for himself. 

“Kids a fucking wreck, Dean. I don’t think he knows his head from a hole in the ground. Probably shouldn’t have a job anywhere.” 

“I’m sorry, babe. Let’s see if we can help you forget about it for a while” Dean grabbed his beer and cracked it open, pulling his laptop over and opening Netflix. “How about Friends?” Benny nodded and Dean started the episode they left on last, leaning into the other man’s side. The room was quiet while they ate. When they’d finished, Dean settled himself half behind Benny, rubbing his back. He knew his boyfriend worked hard and he hated to see him stressed out about it. He didn’t mind letting Benny stay, even though there was a building pressure in his chest when he remembered the work he had waiting for him. 

By the time Benny left, it was just past one in the morning. Dean settled in to crank out the rest of his work, and at three Charlie passed his room with a sleepy goodnight and it was just Dean and his work the next hour and a half. He was half asleep when he finally was able to put everything away for good and lay down for the night, and he knew he’d be miserable the next day. Benny had been in a better mood when he left, though, and that had been Dean’s goal for the night. It didn’t matter how Dean felt, not when he was taking care of people he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute since I've really written. I'm rusty af but it's not getting any better until I make myself do it, so here's what I hope will be a coherent story. Sorry for the incredibly dramatic introduction followed by the driest opening chapter ever written. I'm a phoenix, roast me so I can be reborn. Each chapter title is stolen from a song. Some of them I put a lot of thought into and some of them I didn't but they're all good songs!!!


	2. Tangled Up In Blue

The sound of the alarm startled Dean awake, even though he had been using the same alarm for ages. He let out a sleepy groan and pushed himself out of the bed, stumbling across the room to the clock and switching it off. He learned pretty early on that having an alarm near the bed resulted in him snoozing it for 45 minutes and ending up angry and late and no more rested than if he just got up. 

The late night and resulting lack of sleep left Dean’s eyes feeling scratchy and dry. He rubbed them blearily as he shuffled to the bathroom. Thanks to his aversion to get up early, he did what he could to avoid having to take morning classes. When he was scheduling around work, though, he couldn’t always make that happen, and engineering acoustics was only offered at 8 a.m. anyways. 

Getting into college had been a bit of a difficulty for Dean. He wasn’t an idiot, but he certainly didn’t think he was smart. He’d graduated high school with his uncle riding his ass, but after that he decided to jump right into the workforce. His uncle let him work at his salvage yard and they put cars back together and Dean made enough money to get his own shitty little apartment and it wasn’t bad. He watched his little brother graduate high school and start to knock out his undergraduate degree like it was nothing, a full ride and already killing his exams while he starts to get ready to apply for law school. Suddenly, Dean’s shitty apartment and little job didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to be making a difference in the world, not just surviving. 

Even though Dean was a little embarrassed to admit he wanted to go to college (he gave Sam a hard time about his schooling even though he was incredibly proud of him), Bobby and Sam were both behind him one hundred percent. He applied to Kansas State, since that’s where his brother had went, and Dean missed him terribly. It was nice to go back to his hometown, too, and a shitty little apartment in Lawrence was somehow better, because at least Dean knew he was missing. His apartment wasn’t quite so shitty, either, since he found Charlie to pay half the rent. He got a job in a little pub, and he moved up through the ranks pretty quickly until he was a manager. The extra money was nice, but it meant working a lot of late nights. It was shitty when he had classes to worry about, but it took off some pressure he felt trying to socialize. He was a good couple years older than most of his peers and he felt out of place with so many of them that work was a nice excuse if people tried to invite him out. 

Dean sighed as he climbed out of the shower, tucking his towel around his waist and heading to his bedroom, glancing at his phone before he started getting dressed. He’s not surprised to see there’s no messages from anyone, he was up late and awake early. Benny worked nights, for the most part. Dean had met him at the pub when he first started working, but Benny had ended up quitting and starting somewhere else. Dean never found out exactly what happened, but he knew there were a lot of hard feelings about it so he tried not to bring it up. It made it especially difficult for Dean to get to morning classes when his boyfriend was on such a different schedule, though. It wasn’t that Benny didn’t notice or care, Dean thought it just slipped his mind sometimes. He might not be exhausted at two in the morning because he was always up until two.

They were smack in the middle of winter, but Dean didn’t mind. He pulled on an average outfit, jeans and plain t-shirt with a flannel over the top, running a comb through his hair. He kept his pretty short; it’s looked almost exactly the same since he’s been in high school - aside from the one time he decided to be really rebellious and tried out a mohawk, a mistake he won’t be making again. Another glance at his phone confirmed there was almost enough time to make a pot of coffee and dump it into his beat-up coffee mug. There was a dent on the side, two KU stickers, and a large sticker portrait of Vonnegut that Sam got him for his birthday last year. One of the KU stickers was peeling off at the edge, and Dean’s thumb went to it and starts picking almost instinctually. He was almost to the door when he remembered the failed practice session from the night before and he decided to run back to his room and grab his guitar, hoping he could get in a few minutes between classes. 

Dean was only running a few minutes late by the time he heads out the door and to his car. Parking was expensive but Dean also usually had to run to work or something right after class so he sucked it up and bought a pass at the beginning of the semester. 

Even though Dean felt a little uncomfortable around the other students sometimes, he had still made some friends. He was particularly grateful for that with this morning class, since Garth usually saved him a seat. He had an excuse this morning, but he had also developed a habit of being about five minutes late no matter what time he went to bed or got up, so Garth had just developed an answering habit of leaving his bag in the chair next to him until Dean got there. 

“Morning,” Garth greets, grinning over at Dean as he pulled his bag out of the way and dropped it next to his feet. “Dr. Eckleburg gave us this we’re supposed to be working on it in pairs.” He slides a hefty looking packet in front of Dean and he groans.

“Didn’t we just do like, 20 pages of homework last night on this same shit?” He digs out his notebook and starts to rip out the pages he needs to turn in, running them up to the front of the room and dropping back in his seat a moment later. 

“Technically you’ve had all week to do that homework,” Garth pointed out, scratching something under the problem he’s on, already halfway down the front of the page. 

“Technically not everyone kisses ass like you, Garth,” Dean replied, glancing at his friend’s work before looking down at his own paper, tapping his pencil against his bottom lip. He was still staring at the first problem when Garth turned his paper over, and Dean sighed dramatically. “Seriously, how does your brain work this early in the morning?” 

“It’s not that early! You just need to be more positive about it, that’s all.” Dean rolled his eyes. Garth was unusually chipper for Dean’s preference, but he was funny as hell, and he wasn’t a bad kid. He was a little socially awkward too, and Dean had seen him trying to make friends a few times and watched it fall short, so he tried not to be an ass. Turned out he was a pretty good friend, and pretty smart, most of the time.  
They fell silent as they worked for a while, but Dean could tell that Garth was getting close to finishing up because he had a tendency to chat when he did. “Oh, did I tell you there’s a new werewolf movie I found? We should watch it sometime this week.” 

“I don’t get your obsession with them, man,” Dean answered, leaning over to dig through his backpack for his eraser. 

“It’s called When Animals Dream. They just added it on Netflix.” Garth ignored Dean’s comment, given that he has to make one every time he brings up these movies even though he always comes over and watches them. “It’s a little more avant garde, a little less slasher, but it looks really good.” 

“What are you going to do when you run out of werewolf movies, huh?” Dean wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t understand Garth’s obsession with them. He didn’t judge him for it, certainly not, but Garth was such a sweetheart, and kind of goofy and dopey and Dean didn’t quite get how one of his favorite things to do was watch average people explode into bloodthirsty monsters. 

“I’m not going to. They’re making even more now, after Twilight and everything, even if those weren’t the best representations of werewolves. I mean, half the appeal of werewolves is that they’re humanoid, not just wolves.” 

“The appeal of werewolves, Garth, really?” Dean snickered a little, shaking his head, finally turning his paper over, glancing at Garth’s and unsurprised to see that he’d finished. “I work most of this week. Tomorrow night I don’t, but it’s open mic. Maybe this weekend though, Sunday morning I’m off, you could come over and watch, maybe we can rope Charlie in too.” 

Garth flipped back to the first page, starting to go over his work again. “Oh yeah, open mic. I know I said I could come again this week but, I… well, uhm, something came up.” Garth wasn’t a good liar, and given Dean considered him a friend it was pretty much impossible not to tell he was trying to worm his way into an excuse. 

“Something came up, huh? It’s not a big deal, man, if you didn’t like it you don’t have to come. I know you have other shit to take care of.” 

Garth let out a sigh of relief, looking over to Dean. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, it’s just…I…okay, no, I didn’t like it.” 

Dean laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not for everyone. We’ll hang out on Sunday, anyways.” He had to admit, he was a little disappointed. He went to open mic to listen to Benny, but that meant he usually spent most of the time sitting at a table alone. He’d had fun chatting with Garth last week, but he’d suspected the other man had ended up a little bored by the end of the night. 

“Here, let’s compare these and get out of here,” Garth said, a little too quickly, and for a moment Dean wondered if there was something the other man wasn’t telling him. It really wasn’t a big deal, so Dean shrugged it off and scooted closer to start to compare answers with Garth, leaning his chin on his hand. They ended up with mostly the same thing, even if Garth did get there faster, and after a few corrections they turn the papers in and Dean left the class feeling pretty decent. As much as he worried about not performing well in college, he really tended to keep up pretty decently. It was always a little ego boost, too, and Dean headed to his next class feeling pretty good.

Dean didn’t have any friends in this class, so he took his seat towards the back of the room, pulling out his phone for the first time since he’d left his apartment. Benny’s name was at the top of the screen, with several messages waiting underneath. 

Benny: Good morning, sweetheart. I love you.  
Benny: Where are you? I thought you had class this morning.  
Benny: Guess we’re not talking today, sugar. 

Dean frowned a little, his stomach clenching up slightly. Usually, that class was just a lecture, and he had his phone out under the desk through half of it, shooting messages back and forth with his boyfriend. It was a long class, as well, just over two hours, technically scheduled in as a lab though most of it was lecture and problem sets. He hadn’t even sent him a good morning text, either, he’d been in too much of a rush to leave the house. 

Dean: We had to work in class today, it was busy. I’m sorry. I love you too.

It was just like Dean to do well on one thing only by neglecting another. He saw other people who seemed to have it all balanced all the time. They could keep their significant other’s happy, they could do their work, they could get sleep and pay their bills. It took him way too long to get to those answers, and he should’ve checked his phone to see if he was getting messages. He knew he was there for class, but…well, what good was doing well here going to be if he ended up some lonely, stuck-up engineer? 

Dean: I should have checked in with you. Are you feeling better today? 

Benny didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop Dean from checking his phone every few seconds. He hated being at odds with the other man, and he did feel guilty for not checking in with him. He’d known Benny had a rough night, and it’s not like answering the messages would have impeded him that much. With his good mood soured, Dean found it near impossible to concentrate through his class, brooding on his mistake instead. 

It wasn’t until after Dean was in his next class that he finally gets a response, and even though he’s relieved to see it, he can still tell that Benny is frustrated with him. 

Benny: Just dandy.  
Dean: Do you need me to come over tonight? I close but I could be at your house after.

Benny: Sugar, do what you want. I'm clearly not stopping you. 

Dean bit his lip hard, frowning at the message and tapping his pen against the notebook in front of him until the girl sitting next to him impatiently cleared her throat and gave him a look. 

Dean: I’ll be there tonight. You working tonight too?

It’s always hard to get Benny out of these moods. Dean would’ve thought that he’d be better at it by now, but he’s not, and it drove him up the wall. He used to fight with Sam, a lot, especially when they were both teenagers. His brother was smart and emotionally sensitive and good at reading people and Dean wasn’t any of those things, and he never knew how to handle it when anything went wrong, and he’s reminded of that now. The good mood from earlier had dissipated entirely now, leaving him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Getting replies from Benny was like pulling teeth. Each one was just as clipped and short for over an hour until he finally was out of his funk. Dean hated that it took so long, and that it didn’t seem to matter what he did to fix it. At least he didn’t have class so early the next day, so going to Benny’s late wouldn’t be such a problem. He’d make it up to him that night. 

The best thing about working late shifts was that they started late, so once Dean’s done with classes at three he still has a pretty big chunk of time before he has to be at work. After his day, he was glad to be able to go back to the music building, hoping to actually get in some practice time. 

Just walking into the building, Dean already felt less stressed. He fiddled with the strap of the guitar case as he headed down the hall. The rooms were pretty full again, to his disappointment, but he should’ve expected that, coming in the middle of the day. He found an empty room with a closed door, and he sighed as he pulled at the handle, dropping his forehead against the door a moment later. He just wanted a chance to unwind before work, and that knot in his stomach was tightening back up with frustration. 

Standing there pouting wasn’t about to do anything for him, though, so he picked his head up and turned to move down the hall, only to find someone standing directly at his side, nearly running into them. “Whoa! Sorry man, I was just-“ He cut off, frowning slightly. It was the man from the night before, who’s gaze was even more intense up close and personal. He wasn’t moving, he didn’t look like he’d just come to a stop, either. Had he just been standing there watching Dean’s fight with the door? Dean cleared his throat, adjust the strap on his shoulder. “I was just going to head out,” he started again, and the other man tilted his head. 

“You didn’t practice. Do you prefer to play in your car?” His voice was deeper than Dean expected, and he was still just kind of staring. Dean didn’t know what to do with himself, shoving his hand into his pocket. 

“I don’t have a key card. I’m not a music major, I didn’t want to pay extra for it. Poor college students, you know?” He laughed a little, but the other man didn’t, and the joke seems to fall dead in the air. “Right. So, I’ll just…” He made a move to step around the other man. 

“I have a card,” the man said, and Dean paused. He assumed as much, this guy looks like a real music student. He sounded like one too, from what Dean had heard the day before. It sounded almost like an offer, but he doesn’t move to open the door, and Dean’s left uncertain what he’s supposed to say in return. This guy is still just looking at him, and Dean thought it was kind of weird until he realized he’s just looking back. He opened his mouth to say something, but then the man pulled out his card and pressed it to the access pad. There was a beep and click and the man pushed the door open and stepped out of the way. “The one at the end of the hall doesn’t lock.” 

“Thanks, man. I’ll keep that in mind.” Dean was still a little uncertain, but he couldn’t very well just walk away now that this man had opened the room up for him, as awkward as it was. “I’m Dean, by the way. What’s your name?” He held out his hand, waiting. 

“Castiel.” The man studied his hand for a moment before reaching out to shake it, his grip firm. 

“Castiel? You pulling my leg?” Dean answered with a little smile. 

“I’m obviously not.” Castiel looked to their hands and then back to Dean’s face, and Dean laughed again. 

“Obviously. Well, thanks again. You sounded really good. You sure you don’t want this room?” Castiel shook his head, dropping Dean’s hand. 

“No. I’ve already practiced.” Dean hadn’t noticed him playing, but maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Oh, cool. See you around, Castiel.” Dean lifted his hand in a little wave, and this time Castiel returned it. Dean smiled at him, pushing the door shut and sitting down to unpack his guitar. By the time he looked up a few minutes later, Castiel was gone and he can finally settle in and practice like he’d been itching to do since the day before. 

The odd encounter hung in the back of his mind, but he was able to let it go along with the rest of the stress from the day. His fingers moved smoothly over the strings, and it was much better and much more comfortable than the night before. Benny messaged him while he practiced, and unwilling to have a repeat of that morning, Dean stopped and answered every time. He wasn’t able to make it through everything he wanted to that way, but he left for work feeling decent and looking forward to seeing Benny that night and making things right. One of these days, he’d have everything balanced out and he wouldn’t have to worry about it any more.


	3. Last Song

“A Guinness, please.” Dean leaned against the counter while he waited for the bartender, glancing around. The bar wasn’t too full yet, but it tended to get pretty crowded on open mic nights. He was still a little disappointed that Garth didn’t want to come, but he was getting over it. Sam had used to be his buddy for these, but this semester he had a pre-law seminar that ran until 10 o’clock, so it wasn’t worth him coming out. Every once in a while, Dean felt a nagging guilt, that Sam was working his ass off and Dean was barely dragging himself through his classes, but he had to remind himself they weren’t the same people. They were on different paths and Dean had to be happy with the fact he’d come to college at all. 

The bartender returned with his beer a moment later, and Dean left the tab open, wandering over to an empty table not too far from the stage and taking a seat. Some nights, these things were really great. Dean liked to hear fresh music, and every once in a while they’d really hit the jackpot with the comedy acts that came through. There were plenty that only received pity laughs, though, and people who tried to sing that didn’t even know what it meant to sing in tune or had no sense of rhythm. All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to spend his Wednesdays, though. 

Dean headed over to one of the circular tables in the middle of the room. They were close enough to the stage to be able to see and hear what he wanted to, but not overwhelming. He’d made the mistake of sitting at a table directly in front of the speakers one week and his ear rang for two days afterwards. 

The surface of the table was sticky, but that was expected here. Dean pulled out his phone, opening up one of his games. He’d developed a liking for this stupid civilization build and defend games. Every time there was an ad for a new one Dean rolled his eyes at it and then ended up downloading it and wasting a few hours (and usually a few dollars) on it. They were perfect for times like this, though, or when class became unbearably boring. Performers would be starting soon, and after Benny performed he’d join Dean. That was always Dean’s favorite part of the night, hanging out with his boyfriend, listening to new music, and having a couple beers. It wasn’t unusual for them to get frisky when they went home after, either, and Dean would be a dirty liar if he said he didn’t look forward to that too. 

“Dean?” It was a surprise to hear his name, and the voice sounded familiar but Dean couldn’t quite place it until he picked his head up and saw Castiel standing in front of him.

“Oh! Hey, Castiel, right?” Dean gave him a warm smile. He didn’t expect to see him here, nor did he expect to the other man to talk to him, but he wasn’t going to complain either. He’d like the company, if only for a moment. 

“Right.” Castiel went silent, shifting his weight between his feet. He had seemed awkward before, but rather unaware of it. Now, he looked downright uncomfortable. His bright blue eyes were darting around rather than fixated on Dean, and he had a bottle of water in his hands that he was twisting around nervously. His dark hair was sticking up every which way, but now that Dean thinks about it he’s pretty sure that’s how it looked before, too.

“So,” Dean said after it became clear that Castiel wasn’t going to say anything on his own. “Are you performing tonight?” 

“No.” Castiel’s answer was immediate and he looked vaguely horrified by the suggestion, the corner of his lips turning down. 

“Okay, not performing.” Dean smiled, sipping at his beer and locking his phone, setting it down face down on the table. “Here to watch someone, then?” 

“Yes.” Castiel paused before it seemed to occur to him that he should elaborate. “My brother. He does stand-up. He used to do it all the time, but he opened a business so he hasn’t had the time. This is first time back out, so I said I’d come watch him. I don’t know anyone else.” 

“Do you want to sit?” Dean offered, pushing out the chair next to him with his foot. Castiel looked immediately relieved and nodded, dropping himself down on the seat. 

“Thank you. I don’t normally go out, to bars, or events, or… well, anything.” He shrugged, spinning the bottle of water between his hands. 

“It’s not everybody’s scene. This place gets kind of crowded, but it’s pretty tame.” Dean liked it for that. He had gone through a phase, when he was younger, where he could get pretty out of control, but he’d grown out of it, he liked to think. Sometimes he still drank a little too much, but it wasn’t the worst thing he could do. 

“Thank you. I’m assuming you’re here to perform?” Castiel turned his gaze to Dean, and he’s reminded of how intense the gaze was the first time that he saw it.

“Nah, my boyfriend is. He’s warming up right now. I don’t perform.” 

“Oh.” Castiel went quiet, looking down at his water. “I do,” he said after a moment. “Perform, that is. Not here, obviously. But my degree is a Masters of Music in Performance, so I have to perform sometimes.” 

“A Masters?” Dean’s eyebrow lifted. “Damn, that’s impressive. No wonder you sounded so good. I eavesdropped for a while the other day.” Dean shrugged, less embarrassed to admit it now that they were actually talking not just awkwardly staring at each other in the hallway. 

“Not everyone thinks so.” Castiel gave him a rueful little smile. “Music careers aren’t exactly the most promising. That’s what everyone says, anyways.” He shrugged, his gaze flitting back to the crowd before he was looking back at Dean again. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Clearly you’re pretty kick-ass at it,” Dean said, tilting his emptying glass towards Castiel. “Why’d you look like you were going to throw up when I asked you if you were playing tonight, then?” Castiel’s eyebrows pulled together, making a little wrinkle between them. It’s an expression Dean’s seen on his face a couple times now, and it’s a little endearing. This guy was an odd duck, but Dean was too, so he didn’t have a problem with it.

“This is a different kind of performance. Unstructured. People desire something from it I can’t provide. No one comes to these to hear the Saint-Saëns cello concerto.”” Castiel gave a little shrug of his shoulders, watching Dean drain the rest of his beer.

“Saint-Saëns,” Dean muttered to himself, not quite getting the same pronunciation as Castiel. “I get it, I was just curious.” He pushed himself up from the table, scratching the back of his head. “I’m gonna grab another beer. You want anything?” Castiel shook his head, and Dean nodded and headed off. He returned a moment later with a beer in hand, and by this point the first performer was up on stage. 

“Your brother chose a pretty good place to start up again in my opinion,” Dean said, leaning a little closer to Castiel to be heard over the music. It’s a woman Dean had seen a few weeks before. She was slender to the point where it made her look breakable and her guitar overtook her frame, but her voice was surprisingly powerful. “There’s some really good musicians, or- I think they’re good. I’m no master of music though.” Castiel frowned, shaking his head, and that little wrinkle between his eyebrows appeared again. 

“I’m no better judge than anyone else, nor do I pursue this degree to judge.”

“Relax, Castiel. I’m just messing with you.” Dean shoved his shoulder gently, propping his feet up on the chair in front of him. “You said your brother is doing stand-up, right? Hopefully he’s better with jokes than you.”

“He is,” Castiel huffed, still frowning at Dean. 

“I’m still just messing with you, man. Lighten up. You sure you don’t want a drink?” Dean offered, giving him a smile, and the corners of Castiel’s mouth relax. 

“I’m the designated driver.”

“Gotcha. I’m really not trying to be an ass. It comes across like that a lot, but I’m not,” Dean explained. 

“Sounds just like my brother. The two of you will get along well.” There was a vaguely exasperated expression on Castiel’s face, but amusement hid there as well. 

“Is he older or younger?” Cheers erupted around them while the first performer finished up her song and left the stage. Dean had to pull his chair in as the bar became more crowded and the space behind them filled. That was a bonus to getting here early, he didn’t like spending the whole time standing crowded against the wall.

“Older,” Castiel replied once the sound settled. “He doesn’t look or act like it, but he technically is.” Dean tipped his head back with a laugh, grinning. 

“God, now you sound like my brother. Younger, way better than me at just about everything.” Dean’s eyes sparkled with pride. He could sit here and brag about Sam for hours, but he didn’t think Castiel really wanted to hear that. He looked more relaxed now at least. His water bottle was sat on the table and he settled his gaze, between the stage and Dean now. 

“Does he go to school here as well?” Castiel questioned. 

“He does. He’s pre-law, he used to come hang out with me here, but he has meetings now. He’s the smartest kid I’ve ever met. He’s applying to all the big law schools, got his sights set on Stanford. He had a full ride here too, he’ll probably end up with another one for law school if you ask me.” It was a good thing too, because Dean’s family sure as hell couldn’t afford to help out. The nice thing about having two deceased parents was that the government was more willing to help out too, at least.

“Pre-law? That’s impressive too.” Castiel leaned his elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of him. He still looked stiff and awkward, but some of the tension was seeping from his frame. 

“It is. Maybe if he makes it to one of these you’ll meet him.” Castiel looked surprised, first and foremost, but then he smiled a little. 

“That sounds nice.” Dean nodded, glancing up at the singer on stage. Most of them had an instrument with them, but this guy was going for it acapella, and it honestly wasn’t half bad. Silence fell between him and Castiel, but it wasn’t awkward this time. This performance wasn’t as long, and Dean clapped along with the rest of the crowd when it ended. The singer waved and headed off stage, and Benny came up a moment later. He had a guitar strapped around his neck and took a moment to adjust the microphone before leaning forward to speak.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” His southern drawl always seemed a little more drawn out when he was on stage, and it always made the drunk girls in the front scream and fawn. Dean let out a loud whoop himself, and Castiel jumped. 

“That’s my boyfriend!” Dean said, grinning and whooping again. Benny looked out into the crowd and winked at Dean, who lifted his glass in a mock toast. 

“This one’s called Last Song,” he said, reaching up to adjust his hat, a simple grey flat cap that he’d had as long as Dean had known him. Benny started to croon into the microphone, his voice gravely and rough like it tended to be when he sang. Dean had a small grin stuck on his face while he watched Benny, glancing over at Castiel about halfway through to gauge his reaction. He wasn’t the most expressive person, but he didn’t look disgusted or anything so Dean didn’t take any offense. 

There was always a group in the front who was here just to drink and get rowdy near the stage, and a few of the girls who came here often had taken quite a shining to Benny. Dean understood it, he was dating the man after all. Seeing them always left a mixture of pride and jealousy and a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe it was because once he started singing Benny always looked at them more than Dean, but he was just playing the room. Tonight, Dean was honestly excited to show off his man to his newfound friend. 

Dean might be biased, but he thought the cheers when Benny finished were a bit louder than the last two. “That’s my man!” he called out, grinning as he watched his boyfriend give a little nod in response to the applause before he left the stage. “What’d you think?” Dean questioned, turning to Castiel. 

“He was good. Even from the perspective of, as you said, a master of music.” Castiel’s lip quirked, and Dean gave an answering grin. 

“I like to think so. He’s a catch, my Benny.” Dean glanced down at his glass, swirling his beer around. 

“Do you play together?” The question surprised Dean, and he realized that he doesn’t often tell people that he played. Every, actually. Charlie only knew because they lived together, and Castiel saw it first-hand. 

“No, I don’t really… He doesn’t really know that I play. I’m not good, that’s why I hide out in the music building to practice, I don’t want other people to hear. It’s just a stupid little hobby.” Castiel hummed, opening his mouth to speak, but he stopped when Benny appeared and Dean’s side. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, arm coming around his shoulders while he leaned down to kiss his cheek. 

“Hey! You sounded great up there, like usual,” Dean answered, tilting his head back to press a kiss to Benny’s stubbly cheek. “This is my friend, Castiel.” He picked his head up and gestured across the table. “His brother’s doing stand-up tonight.” Castiel lifted his hand and waved, looking just about as stiff as the first night that Dean had met him. 

“Nice to meet you. Name’s Benny.” He reached out across the table to take Castiel’s hand and shake it. Dean moved his feet from the chair they’d been on, pulling it over so Benny could sit as well. “Could you go grab me a beer, Dean?” 

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” There was a tendency for Benny to be a little bit showier in his affection when friends were around, and Dean had nearly forgotten about that until his boyfriend’s hand Is slapping his ass as he walked away. It made his cheeks go red, it wasn’t like he knew Castiel terribly well yet, but maybe he hadn’t seen. There’s something about the way Castiel studiously avoided his gaze when Dean returned with beers in hand that told him that he had noticed. 

“So how’d you meet? No offense, brother, but I think I’d remember a name like yours,” Benny said, turning to look at Castiel. He was a big man, and he sprawled in his chair rather comfortably, legs spread and arms resting on the table. It was nearly the exact opposite of the way Castiel was holding himself. His arms had slipped off the table and his back was straight and posture rigid.

“We met in-“ Castiel cut off, glancing over to Dean. He’d said that Benny didn’t know he played, it wasn’t his place to decide that. 

“In the pub,” Dean finished. “His order was made wrong, I fixed it, he left a good tip, and we happened to meet up here.” Castiel didn’t say a word to disagree and Dean made a mental note to thank him for that later. 

Benny nodded, arm coming around Dean’s shoulder. “What happened to your friend from last week? The little one?” Dean snorted softly; Garth was kind of scrawny and even though he was the same height as Dean he looked tiny next to Benny. 

“He said it wasn’t really his thing. I think it was too loud for him.” Garth liked to talk and he’d had to shout most of last week – there were several full bands on stage and the whole place had ended up crowded and noisy. Benny’s hand was idly moving along Dean’s shoulder and it was making him practically melt against his boyfriend. He was a sucker for a little physical attention, and he it was particularly nice after the tension the last few days. 

“Oh! There’s my brother,” Castiel piped up suddenly, pointing to the stage. 

“That’s your brother?” Dean exclaimed. The man on stage looked nothing like Castiel. Dean knew he and Sam didn’t bear the strongest resemblance, but it wasn’t quite like this. Castiel’s hair was dark and features sharp and strong, eyes bright and curious and piercing. This guy, he was all softness and warmth. He already had a huge, gummy smile the moment he stepped on his stage, his hair a soft brown that seemed to be much more under control than Castiel’s. Dean couldn’t tell from here, but it certainly didn’t seem like the other man had the same stare either, his expression all-around was so much friendlier.

“Half-brother. He takes after our father much more than I do.” Dean looked between the two of them again, shaking his head. Their personalities seemed to be just as polarized. Castiel had froze up at the mention of being on the stage and this man, Gabriel, as he announced, warmed up the crowd with a few simple words. He was really good at this, he had the room’s attention in a matter of moments, and Dean found himself laughing hard enough tears collected in the corners of his eyes. Even Castiel laughed a few times, which Dean was learning was quite the success. 

After seeing Gabriel’s act and hearing Castiel’s earlier praise, Dean was looking forward to meeting him, but as soon as he’d finished Benny leaned over to Dean. “I don’t feel like staying out tonight, hon. I’m exhausted, can we hit the road?” Of course, he’d had a rough couple days, it made sense he wouldn’t want to be out and putting up with all this. Dean nodded, turning to Castiel. 

“Hey, we’re gonna take off. It was nice to see you though. Tell Gabriel he did great, okay? Maybe we’ll see you guys next week.” 

“I will. Nice to meet you, Benny,” Castiel said, giving the man a small smile. “Maybe next week.” It had ended up being a pretty good night, and Dean found himself hoping that Castiel would be there again – as well as Gabriel, his act was good and Dean really would like to meet him. He gave Castiel a wave and headed out the door with his arm around Benny’s waist. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about your new friend?” The night was quiet and cold. Benny’s breath left fog hanging in the air and Dean shivers when he pulls away to dig his keys out of his pocket and unlock the car. 

“What? I told you, he just came into work, I didn’t know he’d be here. He’s a nice guy, kind of weird, but harmless.” He started the engine just about as quickly as he could once he was in the car, holding his hands up to the heat vents even though the only thing coming out right now was cold air while his car tried to warm up. 

“You seemed pretty chummy already, that’s all I’m saying, sugar.” Maybe it was just that they were lying about how they met, but Dean’s stomach twists itself up in knots while he tries to hold onto the peaceful feeling he’d had leaning against Benny’s side in the bar. 

“I was just being friendly. It was his first time out, he didn’t know anyone. He’s a music student, too. Getting his masters, he said you sounded great.” Benny studied Dean for a moment before a smile cracked his face. The tension in the car deflated and Dean took full advantage of it. “I thought you sounded great, too. You always do. My big handsome man up there on stage,” he praised, twisting in his seat to lean over and kiss his boyfriend. 

“You can show me how good you thought it was when we get back to my place,” Benny replied, eyes flashing. Dean came in for another kiss, climbing across the seat and into his boyfriend’s lap. The car had to warm up anyways, so there was no point in just wasting their time. There had been so much doubt building up over the last few days, the last few weeks, even, and Dean let it pour out as he wound his arms around Benny’s neck. His hair was always frustratingly short but it never stopped Dean’s fingers from trying, scratching at the back of his scalp lightly. He inhaled sharply when Benny’s teeth clamped down on his lip and tugged, hands pushing down over Dean’s ass to tug him forward against him. There was no doubt that Benny was stronger than Dean, and it thrilled him to feel the way his boyfriend maneuvered him. 

This was part of the routine, making out in the car until Dean finally insisted that they drive home. There’d been a time or two, when it was warmer, that they didn’t make it to that point, but it was too cold to have sex in the car that night, so Dean finally slid off Benny’s lap and back into the driver’s seat. By the time they’re home and Benny has Dean in bed, he can forget the last few days ever happened. Everything was back to normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned in this chapter is "Last Song" by Jason Webley. It's a ride, and I imagine a only slightly less raspy cover by Benny.


	4. Feels Like the First Time

Everything was not back to normal. Dean wanted so desperately to believe that it was, and for a brief time he had been able to. Almost as soon as they’d gotten through the door, Benny had been on top of him, pressing him up against the wall and kissing him senseless. They’d eventually made it to the bedroom and the sex was good and Dean fell asleep with his head on Benny’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling absolutely content. 

Dean was still feeling pretty good the next morning when the alarm went off. It was Benny’s, which was a surprise, given he didn’t have to work until later. Dean picked his head up to watch his boyfriend reach over and hit snooze, groaning as he dropped his hand over his eyes. “Morning, baby,” he muttered, running his hand over Benny’s chest. “What do you have to do so early?” 

Dean knew that he wasn’t a morning person, and that for Benny, it was even worse, so he wasn’t terribly surprised when the other man huffed and shook his head, but he didn’t expect him to shove his hand off his chest the way he did. “Just an appointment,” Benny grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Oh.” Dean didn’t know what to do with his hand, hovering uncertainly before tucking it under his head. “For what?” 

“I just woke up, Dean, could you back off?” Benny replied, and even with that sugary drawl that his voice always has, there’s an edge that stings. 

“Sorry.” Dean shifted, adjusting the pillow. There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He’d been so happy to just believe that everything was better after last night, but the pit that has been clinging to his stomach the last few days has returned. There was silence for a few moments before Benny let out another disgruntled sound and pushed the blankets off himself, getting out of the bed. 

Dean watched him go, twisting the blanket between his fingers. Maybe he was just being too sensitive right now. Benny had bad days, Dean had bad days, everyone had bad days, there was no reason to take it so personally. Maybe he’d just make Benny some coffee and breakfast and they’d turn this day around. 

Now that he had a plan, Dean was already feeling better. He hated seeing people he cared about upset in any way, and even more than that he hated not being able to fix it. This might not be able to make everything better right away, but it was a start in the very least. Dean climbed out of the bed and grabbed his boxers, pulling them on before he padded out to the kitchen. Benny’s apartment was nicer than his, even though it tended to end up a little more cluttered. The sink had a stack of dishes and there was an empty pizza box on the counter, but Dean had seen worse. He started the coffee first, since just the smell of it could be invigorating, in Dean’s opinion. 

When they’d first gotten together, Dean had been nervous to cook for Benny. He was a bartender, barely, and Benny was the head chef. It wasn’t the most upscale establishment, but Benny had to have some skill to get where he was, and Dean had his food a few times so he knew it was good. Breakfast was the easiest place to start and what Dean thought he was best at, so it was the first meal he’d ever made for Benny. They hadn’t been together terribly long, but Dean had already figured out mornings were not Benny’s thing. Even though he was becoming more comfortable with his boyfriend, sleeping at another person’s house was hard and Dean always ended up awake at least an hour before the other man.

That day he’d had a similar thought to the one he had this morning – a good breakfast could start the day off right even if Benny wasn’t so fond of starting his days in general. He’d decided on something he thought he was pretty good at, stuffed French toast, with eggs and bacon on the side. He had snuck out of bed after he woke, poking around a little to figure out where everything was and get a sense of what he had to work with. Luckily, given his culinary passions, Benny was well-stocked. Dean started the coffee first and then set to work cooking. By the time bacon was sizzling away in the pan, it was enough to wake Benny. He looked absolutely confused when he first came shuffling down the hall, rubbing a hand over the side of his face. 

Dean was already uncertain about his cooking, and nerves had hit him even harder watching his boyfriend survey the room. He met Dean’s gaze, simply looking at him for a moment. “Darling, you made me breakfast?” he’d finally said, and the grin that broke across his face was infectious. Dean’s heart rate returned to normal, and Benny had come up behind him and Dean got to finish off cooking with the other man wrapped around him and murmuring praise into his ear. That was the day that Dean knew he was falling in love. Benny had praised the meal and then they’d gone back to bed and spent half the day just rolling around under the covers and it seemed like a far-off dream after how crappy Dean had felt the last few days. 

There was no stuffed French toast today, no bacon, but Dean did make some mean omelets and a little stack of pancakes for them. He wanted it to be done by the time Benny was out of the shower, and he was just flipping the last pancake when he heard the water shut off. 

Benny liked his coffee with just a little creamer, and he had some Bailey’s Irish Cream that he’d favored lately, so Dean poured him a glass and moved to get the creamer bottle from the fridge. As he tipped the bottle, something tickled in the back of his nose and he sneezed, arm jerking forward and knocking the coffee mug off the counter and onto the ground with a crash, splattering Dean with hot coffee as it fractured. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, shuffling back and setting the creamer on the counter. Benny rounded the corner when he heard the crash, frowning. 

“What was that?” he asked, coming into the kitchen. “Is that my mug?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I was just making breakfast and I knocked this off the counter.” Dean squatted down, picking up the pieces of the mug. It wasn’t too bad, luckily, three large pieces. It would be more of a pain to sop up the coffee than anything else. Benny plucked one of the pieces from Dean’s hand, inspecting it. 

“This was one of my favorites,” he said, frowning at Dean. 

“Babe, I’m sorry. Maybe we can fix it.” Dean held the pieces in his hands together. “A little superglue.” 

“I didn’t ask you to come in here and fuck with my stuff.” Benny’s voice was hard, and Dean looked up in surprise. 

“I was just making breakfast.” 

“Just making breakfast. Darling, did I say I needed breakfast? I said I needed to get out of here, I don’t have time to deal with this.” Benny was incredibly still, but there was an undercurrent to his voice that sent a river of discontent down Dean’s spine. 

“I can clean it up,” Dean said, his cheeks burning. He had just been trying to do something nice for Benny this morning, but it seemed that he’d messed up once again. 

“How do I know if I leave you here that you’re not going to break something else?” Benny moved forward suddenly and gripped Dean’s wrist, jerking his hand up. Dean let out a weak laugh, thinking maybe his boyfriend could be joking, but it was very clear that isn’t the case. “Now you’re gonna laugh at me? What’s your problem?” 

“I don’t have a problem. Come on, let me go, that hurts.” Dean twisted his hand in Benny’s grip, tugging his hand away when Benny didn’t let go. 

“You think you can just tell me what to do?” Benny said, his eyes growing wider and rage twisting his mouth into an expression Dean hadn’t seen before. 

“I’m not- I wasn’t telling you what to do, I just don’t think-“ Benny scoffed, cutting him off.

“You’re right. You don’t think, that’s how shit like this happened. You're just gonna fix it?” Benny’s voice grew louder as he spoke and Dean shuffled back a little, uncertain why Benny was so upset. “That ain’t how this works, sugar.” Benny was nearly shouting now, and Dean flinched hard when the other man suddenly chucked the shard in his hand down on the counter. It exploded into tiny pieces, scattering off the counter and onto the floor, some splashing in the puddle of coffee. 

“Benny! What are you doing?” Dean hadn’t ever seen him act like this before. Sure, he had quite the temper sometimes, but it was never turned against Dean this way, not like this. “You’re acting crazy.” 

It was the wrong thing to say, and Dean could see a flash in Benny’s eyes. His arm raised and the back of his hand hit Dean’s cheek so hard that it makes him stagger back, arm slamming into the counter as he tried to catch himself. There was a jagged piece of mug that sliced easily through his skin. Dean gasped, picking up his arm and looking at the shard sticking out, blood slowly dripping down from it. 

“Don’t you ever say something like that to me again, do you hear me?” Benny growled, paying no attention to Dean’s injury. “If anyone’s acting crazy, it’s you. Coming in here and breaking my shit.” He looked to the remnants of the mug, eyes pausing on the clock on the back of the stove. “And now I’m late for my appointment. This is fucking great. This better be cleaned up by the time I get home.” With that, Benny shoved past Dean and stormed into the living room, door slamming shut behind him a moment later. 

There were infinite ways the morning could have gone, and Dean never would’ve guessed this would be one of them. He doesn’t move even after Benny is gone and the apartment goes quiet, his mind struggling to process what has just happened. 

Benny was always so sweet to him. He could be a bit gruff with other people, and Dean knew that he had a history of bar fights and had even been banned from a few places when things were bad, but things weren’t bad now. He hadn’t been in a fight in months. He was holding his job and even though he had his complaints, he hadn’t had any altercations there yet, either. In fact, it seemed like the only place there were problems were with Dean. 

That realization made Dean’s stomach plummet. Was it something he was doing? Something that he wasn’t doing? Maybe the night before hadn’t been as good as Dean imagined. He didn’t think that he’d ever broken something like this before, but then Dean remembered a few weeks prior he’d dropped a plate, and one night at an open mic a beer had fallen off the table, even though that was thanks to someone else bumping the table. Maybe Benny hadn’t realized that, though. 

There was a growing ache in Dean’s arm and he realized he needed to take care of this before he moped any more. He picked up his arm, examining the wound. The ceramic shard wasn’t the largest of them and it didn’t seem to be wedged too deep. He headed to the bathroom, careful not to step to any of the pieces on the floor. 

There was a first aid kit nestled under a stack of towels in the linen closet that Dean dug out, setting it on the side of the sink and opening it. The only band-aids left were tiny squares, but there was some gauze and alcohol that looked like they’d be useful. Dean was careful while he pulled out the shard, hissing softly. It seems to come out clean, and he was relieved to see that it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. It was rather lengthy, longer than the removed piece, but Dean thought that was probably thanks to the way his arm drug across the counter. 

The alcohol bubbled and hissed when he poured it over the cut and it stung, but not enough to make Dean do more than squint his eyes. Satisfied with the sanitization, Dean wrapped the gauze around his arm and secured it, packing up the kit quietly. Usually when he was alone he was singing or humming or in the very least, talking to himself. Charlie had walked in on his little self-conversations more than once, but it never seemed to stop him. Now, he felt numb. Mute. 

A furl of smoke was unraveling from the pan on the stove by the time Dean returned to the kitchen and he cursed under his breath, hurrying to turn the burner off. The last pancake had been finishing up but now it was blackened to the bottom of the pan. The smell made Dean’s stomach twist and the stack of good food didn’t look quite so appetizing anymore. 

Everything felt robotic as he cleaned. His mind was at war. Part of him was absolutely enraged that Benny would act like this. Dean had just been trying to do something nice, and he had to act like a complete ass about it. The other part of him told him that he had been fucking up for a while and Benny was just over it. 

Dean had made a lot of mistakes in his life. He knew that, and he knew that he could be a lot to put up with. He was always surprised that he got along with Charlie so well, considering she had to live with him. There was no escape for her. Could Dean really blame Benny for being frustrated when he was so obviously missing something? Maybe if Dean spent less time so focused on how stilted he felt when Benny was upset, he could figure out how to fix it. How mad could he get at Benny if this was just him cracking under too much stress? Dean couldn’t say that he dealt with stress in incredibly healthy manners anyways, so he couldn’t judge. 

He sighed as he pulled the trash can over to the counter, wiping the rest of the ruined mug into it before he started to scrape the sad remains of the final pancake out of the pan. He didn’t know what to do and that frustrated him and right now he just wanted to give up. Benny was likely headed to work after his appointment, anyways, so Dean decided it was best if he just went home and gave the man some space. 

By the time Dean was dressed and climbed into his car, he was ready to stop the endless circle of questions in his mind. The radio was cranked nearly as loud as it could go, heavy drum beats vibrating the seat against Dean’s back. It was so loud it made his head ache, but it was just enough to drown out his own thoughts. His ears were ringing when he turned the engine off after pulling up at his apartment, so loud that he just sat for a moment to gather his bearings. 

Charlie was staring at him as soon as he opened the door, both eyebrows arched. “Jesus, Dean, I could hear you from a mile away,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t blow your speakers out.”

“How do you know it was me?” Dean replied, though his normal joking tone fell flat even to his own ears.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Charlie replied, rolling her eyes and sitting up a little straighter. She zeroed in on the gauze on Dean’s arm as soon as she could see it, and her eyebrows pushed up even higher, making her face look almost comical. “What did you do?” 

“I broke a cup.” Dean kicked off his shoes, dropping his keys on the table so he could fidget with the top of the gauze, adjusting it. 

“How’d you cut yourself all the way up there from breaking a cup?” Charlie asked, turning on her knees and leaning over the back of the sofa, like if she got a little closer the gauze would whisper the answer to her. 

“I…it was dumb, I fell on it.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, and he didn’t want to get into what happened. He didn’t want to think about it, period, and he didn’t know that Charlie would understand. She didn’t know Benny all that well, and Dean wasn’t sure that she liked him much. He didn’t want to sully her image of him any further.

“You fell on it?” Charlie stared for another moment before she suddenly burst out laughing. “You weren’t even working, were you? How are you a bartender?” 

Dean couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. “They don’t ask me to bartend first thing in the morning. Besides, it’s not that bad, this was the only thing that Benny had to wrap it with.” The mention of his boyfriend made his chest ache again. He was hurt that Benny didn’t stay and help him with his arm, but maybe he hadn’t noticed. He had already made it very clear that he was in a rush, and he could have overlooked it in his hurry to get out the door. 

“You’re the only person I know who falls on top of cup and slices their arm open,” Charlie said with a roll of her eyes, flopping back on the couch and picking her phone up. “Oh, yeah, remember that hot date from the other night?” 

Dean was very happy to turn the attention away from himself for the time being. “Yeah, the blonde one?” 

“That’s the one. We’re having another date tonight. She backed out of our last plan, I thought that was gonna be it, but turns out she’s a cop, she ended up getting called in.” 

“A cop?” Dean laughed, coming around and dropping himself in the chair next to the sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I didn’t know you were into girls in uniform. I could have hooked you up.”

“Sorry Dean, I have standards,” Charlie retorted, grinning. “I didn’t know that the first time we hooked up anyways. I can’t believe you’d suggest that I’m in it just for the uniform.” 

“I didn’t say that, you’re putting words into my mouth. Incriminating yourself, or something. I guess you’ll have to ask her, she’d probably know.” 

Charlie laughed at that, pushing herself onto her elbow and holding her phone out. “C’mon though, look at her. I know you barely saw her the other night, that didn’t do her justice.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, but he took the phone and glanced through the pictures anyways. Charlie did have a point, even though she wasn’t exactly Dean’s type he could tell she was attractive. The women he went for tended to be a little sharper, with dark features, and an edge that he couldn’t ever quite put his finger on until he found it. This woman was practically the opposite. Her hair was light blonde and hung in large waves around her face, and there was an incredible kindness in her eyes and wide smile. He whistled softly, flipping to the next picture before Charlie snatched her phone back. 

“What? I can guarantee you don’t have anything on there I haven’t seen before.” Dean grinned, reaching out for the phone teasingly.

“Then you don’t need to see it again.” Charlie rolled her eyes, laying back down and turning on her side, facing the back of the sofa to keep her phone away from Dean. 

“You’re like the little sister I never wanted sometimes,” Dean said, pushing himself up and ruffling her hair as he passed the sofa. She declined an answer, probably because they both knew that Dean cared about her like she was family no matter what he said. 

The conversation had lifted his spirits slightly and quieted the roar in his mind. He had work that evening too, and he needed to finish up some work that was due before Saturday. He could head to the library for that before work since it was on the way anyways. He pulled his phone out of his pocket before he dropped his jeans, glancing at the screen. There was a message from Benny, and Dean hesitated for a moment, considering ignoring it. Immediately, there was a pang in his chest, a wave of guilt, and he opened the message without another thought. 

Benny: I’m so sorry about this morning, doll. You know how mornings make me. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you. 

Guilt tugged even harder at Dean’s heart. Of course Benny wasn’t trying to hurt him, and of course he’d come back and apologize like this. Dean should’ve been working harder to figure out what Benny needed, not just do what he wanted. He’d figure out a way to fix all this, all he had to do was try a little harder. With renewed determination, Dean sent off an answer and got ready for work, already trying to plan what he could do to make sure they never had this problem again.

Dean: It’s okay, babe. I love you too.


	5. The Joker

Everything was not back to normal. Dean wanted so desperately to believe that it was, and for a brief time he had been able to. Almost as soon as they’d gotten through the door, Benny had been on top of him, pressing him up against the wall and kissing him senseless. They’d eventually made it to the bedroom and the sex was good and Dean fell asleep with his head on Benny’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling absolutely content. 

Dean was still feeling pretty good the next morning when the alarm went off. It was Benny’s, which was a surprise, given he didn’t have to work until later. Dean picked his head up to watch his boyfriend reach over and hit snooze, groaning as he dropped his hand over his eyes. “Morning, baby,” he muttered, running his hand over Benny’s chest. “What do you have to do so early?” 

Dean knew that he wasn’t a morning person, and that for Benny, it was even worse, so he wasn’t terribly surprised when the other man huffed and shook his head, but he didn’t expect him to shove his hand off his chest the way he did. “Just an appointment,” Benny grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Oh.” Dean didn’t know what to do with his hand, hovering uncertainly before tucking it under his head. “For what?” 

“I just woke up, Dean, could you back off?” Benny replied, and even with that sugary drawl that his voice always had, there’s an edge that stings. 

“Sorry.” Dean shifted, adjusting the pillow. There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He’d been so happy to just believe that everything was better after last night, but the pit that had been clinging to his stomach the last few days had returned. There was silence for a few moments before Benny let out another disgruntled sound and pushed the blankets off himself, getting out of the bed. 

Dean watched him go, twisting the blanket between his fingers. Maybe he was just being too sensitive right now. Benny had bad days, Dean had bad days, everyone had bad days, there was no reason to take it so personally. Maybe he’d just make Benny some coffee and breakfast and they’d turn this day around. 

Now that he had a plan, Dean was already feeling better. He hated seeing people he cared about upset in any way, and even more than that he hated not being able to fix it. This might not be able to make everything better right away, but it was a start in the very least. Dean climbed out of the bed and grabbed his boxers, pulling them on before he padded out to the kitchen. Benny’s apartment was nicer than his, even though it tended to end up a little more cluttered. The sink had a stack of dishes and there was an empty pizza box on the counter, but Dean had seen worse. He started the coffee first, since just the smell of it could be invigorating, in Dean’s opinion. 

When they’d first gotten together, Dean had been nervous to cook for Benny. He was a bartender, barely, and Benny was the head chef. It wasn’t the most upscale establishment, but Benny had to have some skill to get where he was, and Dean had his food a few times so he knew it was good. Breakfast was the easiest place to start and what Dean thought he was best at, so it was the first meal he’d ever made for Benny. They hadn’t been together terribly long, but Dean had already figured out mornings were not Benny’s thing. Even though he was becoming more comfortable with his boyfriend, sleeping at another person’s house was hard and Dean always ended up awake at least an hour before the other man.

That day he’d had a similar thought to the one he had this morning – a good breakfast could start the day off right even if Benny wasn’t so fond of starting his days in general. He’d decided on something he thought he was pretty good at, stuffed French toast, with eggs and bacon on the side. He had snuck out of bed after he woke, poking around a little to figure out where everything was and get a sense of what he had to work with. Luckily, given his culinary passions, Benny was well-stocked. Dean started the coffee first and then set to work cooking. By the time bacon was sizzling away in the pan, it was enough to wake Benny. He looked absolutely confused when he first came shuffling down the hall, rubbing a hand over the side of his face. 

Dean was already uncertain about his cooking, and nerves had hit him even harder watching his boyfriend survey the room. He met Dean’s gaze, simply looking at him for a moment. “Darling, you made me breakfast?” he’d finally said, and the grin that broke across his face was infectious. Dean’s heartrate returned to normal, and Benny had come up behind him and Dean got to finish off cooking with the other man wrapped around him and murmuring praise into his ear. That might’ve been the day he started to fall in love with him now that he’s thinking back on the memory. Benny had praised the meal and then they’d gone back to bed and spent half the day just rolling around under the covers and it seemed like a far-off dream after how crappy Dean had felt the last few days. 

There was no stuffed French toast today, no bacon, but Dean did make some mean omelets and a little stack of pancakes for them. He wanted it to be done by the time Benny was out of the shower, and he was just flipping the last pancake when he heard the water shut off. 

Benny liked his coffee with just a little creamer, and he had some Bailey’s Irish Cream that he’d favored lately, so Dean poured him a glass and moved to get the creamer bottle from the fridge. As he tipped the bottle, something tickled in the back of his nose and he sneezed, arm jerking forward and knocking the coffee cup off the counter and onto the ground with a crash, splattering Dean with hot coffee as it fractured. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, shuffling back and setting the creamer on the counter. Benny rounded the corner when he heard the crash, frowning. 

“What was that?” he asked, coming into the kitchen. “Is that my mug?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I was just making breakfast and I knocked this off the counter.” Dean squatted down, picking up the pieces of the mug. It wasn’t too bad, luckily, three large pieces. It would be more of a pain to sop up the coffee than anything else. Benny plucked one of the pieces from Dean’s hand, inspecting it. 

“This was one of my favorites,” he said, frowning at Dean. 

“Babe, I’m sorry. Maybe we can fix it.” Dean holds the pieces in his hands together. “A little superglue.” 

“I didn’t ask you to come in here and fuck with my stuff.” Benny’s voice was hard, and Dean looked up in surprise. 

“I was just making breakfast.” 

“Just making breakfast. Darling, did I say I needed breakfast? I said I needed to get out of here, I don’t have time to deal with this.” Benny was incredibly still, but there was an undercurrent to his voice that sent a river of discontent down Dean’s spine. 

“I can clean it up,” Dean said, his cheeks burning. He had just been trying to do something nice for Benny this morning, but it seemed that he’d messed up once again. 

“How do I know if I leave you here that you’re not going to break something else?” Benny moved forward suddenly and gripped Dean’s wrist, jerking his hand up. Dean let out a weak laugh, thinking maybe his boyfriend could be joking, but it was very clear that isn’t the case. “Now you’re gonna laugh at me? What’s your problem?” 

“I don’t have a problem. Come on, let me go, that hurts.” Dean twisted his hand in Benny’s grip, tugging his hand away when Benny didn’t let go. 

“You think you can just tell me what to do?” Benny said, his eyes growing wider and rage twisting his mouth into an expression Dean hadn’t seen before. 

“I’m not- I wasn’t telling you what to do, I just don’t think-“ Benny scoffed, cutting him off.

“You’re right. You don’t think, that’s how shit like this happened. You think you can just fix it?” Benny’s voice grew louder as he spoke and Dean shuffled back a little, uncertain why Benny was so upset. “That ain’t how this works, sugar.” Benny was nearly shouting now, and Dean flinched hard when the other man suddenly chucks the shard in his hand down on the counter. It exploded into tiny pieces, scattering off the counter and onto the floor, landing in the puddle of coffee. 

“Benny! What are you doing?” Dean hadn’t ever seen him act like this before. Sure, he had quite the temper sometimes, but it was never turned against Dean this way, not like this. “You’re acting crazy.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Dean can see a flash in Benny’s eyes. His arm raises and the back of his hand hits Dean’s cheek so hard that it makes him stagger back, arm slamming into the counter as he tried to catch himself. There’s a jagged piece of mug that slices easily through his skin and when Dean picks his arm up it sticks out, blood slowly dripping down from it. 

“Don’t you ever say something like that to me again, do you hear me?” Benny growled, paying no attention to Dean’s injury. “If anyone’s acting crazy, it’s you. Coming in here and breaking my shit.” He looked to the remnants of the mug, eyes pausing on the clock on the back of the stove. “And now I’m late for my appointment. This is fucking great. This better be cleaned up by the time I get home.” With that, Benny shoved past Dean and stormed into the living room, door slamming shut behind him a moment later. 

There were infinite ways the morning could have gone, and Dean never would’ve guessed this would be one of them. He doesn’t move even after Benny is gone and the apartment goes quiet, his mind struggling to process what has just happened. 

Benny was always so sweet to him. He could be a bit gruff with other people, and Dean knew that he had a history of bar fights and had even been banned from a few places when things were bad, but things weren’t bad now. He hadn’t been in a fight in months. He was holding his job and even though he had his complaints, he hadn’t had any altercations there yet, either. In fact, it seemed like the only place there were problems were with Dean. 

That realization made Dean’s stomach plummet. Was it something he was doing? Something that he wasn’t doing? Maybe the night before hadn’t been as good as Dean imagined. He didn’t think that he’d ever broken something like this before, but then Dean remembered a few weeks prior he’d dropped a plate, and one night at an open mic a beer had fallen off the table, even though that was thanks to someone else bumping the table. Maybe Benny hadn’t realized that, though. 

There was a growing ache in Dean’s arm and he realized he needed to take care of this before he moped any more. He picked up his arm, examining the wound. The ceramic shard wasn’t the largest of them and it doesn’t seem to be wedged too deep. He headed to the bathroom, careful not to step to any of the pieces on the floor. 

There was a first aid kit nestled under a stack of towels in the linen closet that Dean dug out, setting it on the side of the sink and opening it. The only band-aids left were tiny squares, but there was some gauze and alcohol that looked like they’d be useful. Dean was careful while he pulled out the shard, hissing softly. It seemed to come out clean, and he was relieved to see that it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. It was rather lengthy, longer than the removed piece, but Dean thought that was probably thanks to the way his arm drug across the counter. 

The alcohol bubbled and hissed when he poured it over the cut and it stung, but not enough to make Dean do more than squint his eyes. Satisfied with the sanitization, Dean wrapped the gauze around his arm and secured it, packing up the kit quietly. Usually when he was alone he was singing or humming or in the very least, talking to himself. Charlie had walked in on his little self-conversations more than once, but it never seemed to stop him. Now, he felt numb. Mute. 

A furl of smoke was unraveling from the pan on the stove by the time Dean returned to the kitchen and he cursed under his breath, hurrying to turn the burner off. The last pancake had been finishing up but now it was blackened to the bottom of the pan. The smell made Dean’s stomach twist and the stack of good food didn’t look quite so appetizing anymore. 

Everything felt robotic as he cleaned. His mind was at war. Part of him was absolutely enraged that Benny would act like this. Dean had just been trying to do something nice, and he had to act like a complete ass about it. The other part of him told him that he had been fucking up for a while and Benny was just over it. 

Dean had made a lot of mistakes in his life. He knew that, and he knew that he could be a lot to put up with. He was always surprised that he got along with Charlie so well, considering she had to live with him. There was no escape for her. Could Dean really blame Benny for being frustrated when he was so obviously missing something? Maybe if Dean spent less time so focused on how stilted he felt when Benny was upset, he could figure out how to fix it. How mad could he get at Benny if this was just him cracking under too much stress? Dean couldn’t say that he dealt with stress in incredibly healthy manners anyways, so he couldn’t judge. 

He sighed as he pulled the trash can over to the counter, wiping the rest of the ruined mug into it before he started to scrape the sad remains of the final pancake out of the pan. He didn’t know what to do and that frustrated him and right now he just wanted to give up. Benny was likely headed to work after his appointment, anyways, so Dean decided it was best if he just went home and gave the man some space. 

By the time Dean was dressed and climbed into his car, he was ready to stop the endless circle of questions in his mind. The radio was cranked nearly as loud as it could go, heavy drum beats vibrating the seat against Dean’s back. It was so loud it made his head ache, but it was just enough to drown out his own thoughts. His ears were ringing when he turned the engine off after pulling up at his apartment, so loud that he just sat for a moment to gather his bearings. 

Charlie was staring at him as soon as he opened the door, both eyebrows arched. “Jesus, Dean, I could hear you from a mile away,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t blow your speakers out.”

“How do you know it was me?” Dean replied, though his normal joking tone fell flat even to his own ears.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Charlie replied, rolling her eyes and sitting up a little straighter. She zeroed in on the gauze on Dean’s arm as soon as she could see it, and her eyebrows pushed up even higher, making her face look almost comical. “What did you do?” 

“I broke a cup.” Dean kicked off his shoes, dropping his keys on the table so he could fidget with the top of the gauze, adjusting it. 

“How’d you cut yourself all the way up there from breaking a cup?” Charlie asked, turning on her knees and leaning over the back of the sofa, like if she got a little closer the gauze would whisper the answer to her. 

“I…it was dumb, I fell on it.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, and he didn’t want to get into what happened. He didn’t want to think about it, period, and he didn’t know that Charlie would understand. She didn’t know Benny all that well, and Dean wasn’t sure that she liked him much. He didn’t want to sully her image of him any further.

“You fell on it?” Charlie stared for another moment before she suddenly burst out laughing. “You weren’t even working, were you? How are you a bartender?” 

Dean couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. “They don’t ask me to bartend first thing in the morning. Besides, it’s not that bad, this was the only thing that Benny had to wrap it with.” The mention of his boyfriend made his chest ache again. He was hurt that Benny didn’t stay and help him with his arm, but maybe he hadn’t noticed. He had already made it very clear that he was in a rush, and he could have overlooked it in his hurry to get out the door. 

“You’re the only person I know who falls on top of cup and slices their arm open,” Charlie said with a roll of her eyes, flopping back on the couch and picking her phone up. “Oh, yeah, remember that hot date from the other night?” 

Dean was very happy to turn the attention away from himself for the time being. “Yeah, the blonde one?” 

“That’s the one. We’re having another date tonight. She backed out of our last plan, I thought that was gonna be it, but turns out she’s a cop, she ended up getting called in.” 

“A cop?” Dean laughed, coming around and dropping himself in the chair next to the sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I didn’t know you were into girls in uniform. I could have hooked you up.”

“Sorry Dean, I have standards,” Charlie retorted, grinning. “I didn’t know that the first time we hooked up anyways. I can’t believe you’d suggest that I’m in it just for the uniform.” 

“I didn’t say that, you’re putting words into my mouth. Incriminating yourself, or something. I guess you’ll have to ask her, she’d probably know.” 

Charlie laughed at that, pushing herself onto her elbow and holding her phone out. “C’mon though, look at her. I know you barely saw her the other night, that didn’t do her justice.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, but he took the phone and glanced through the pictures anyways. Charlie did have a point, even though she wasn’t exactly Dean’s type he could tell she was attractive. The women he went for tended to be a little sharper, with dark features, and an edge that he couldn’t ever quite put his finger on until he found it. This woman was practically the opposite. Her hair was light blonde and hung in large waves around her face, and there was an incredible kindness in her eyes and wide smile. He whistled softly, flipping to the next picture before Charlie snatched her phone back. 

“What? I can guarantee you don’t have anything on there I haven’t seen before.” Dean grinned, reaching out for the phone teasingly.

“Then you don’t need to see it again.” Charlie rolled her eyes, laying back down and turning on her side, facing the back of the sofa to keep her phone away from Dean. 

“You’re like the little sister I never wanted sometimes,” Dean said, pushing himself up and ruffling her hair as he passed the sofa. She declined an answer, probably because they both knew that Dean cared about her like she was family no matter what he said. 

The conversation had lifted his spirits slightly and quieted the roar in his mind. He had work that evening too, and he needed to finish up some schoolwork that was due before Saturday. He could head to the library for that before work since it was on the way anyways. He pulled his phone out of his pocket before he dropped his jeans, glancing at the screen. There was a message from Benny, and Dean hesitated for a moment, considering ignoring it. Immediately, there was a pang in his chest, a wave of guilt, and he opened the message without another thought. 

Benny: I’m so sorry about this morning, doll. You know how mornings make me. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you. 

Guilt tugged even harder at Dean’s heart. Of course Benny wasn’t trying to hurt him, and of course he’d come back and apologize like this. Dean should’ve been working harder to figure out what Benny needed, not just do what he wanted. He’d figure out a way to fix all this, all he had to do was try a little harder. With renewed determination, Dean sent off an answer and got ready for work, already trying to plan what he could do to make sure they never had this problem again.

Dean: It’s okay, babe. I love you too.   
   
Benny really did try to make it up to Dean. The night after the incident he came to Dean’s apartment and made him dinner and spoiled him with all the hugs and kisses Dean could ask for and Dean had himself convinced it was an accident and nothing more. 

He never realized just how much time he spent at work leaning with his elbows on the counter to chat with customers until doing so made his forearm ache. The first time he did it the pain was so sharp and so sudden that he yanked his arm back with such violence he almost hit the shelf behind him. It hadn’t taken him long to adjust though, not with such an efficient reminder to not do what he was doing. 

Every time that Dean went to the music building to practice, he crossed paths with Castiel. It made sense, given how good Castiel sounded, he must spend a lot of time working his ass off, but it still surprised Dean to see him. The hint he gave him about the unlocked room is incredibly helpful and Dean hoped the door didn’t get fixed any time soon. If Castiel passed Dean in the hall, he’d always stop and chat, but he never interrupted Dean’s practice time so Dean was sure to do the same for him. Even though Castiel was lightening up a little bit he seemed to be a rather serious person in general and Dean imagined that was even more true when it came to what he was studying. 

Dean was pleasantly surprised to spot Castiel at the next open mic again, waving at him and grabbing a drink before he maneuvered through the bar to come join him at his table. “Hey, man, how are you doing?” he questioned as he sat down, plunking his beer down in front of him.

“I’m good, thank you. You?” Castiel replied, gaze flicking towards Dean’s arm. He’d finally stopped wrapping it up and had just a few butterfly bandages over the parts where he’d ripped off scabs or the cut had been a little deeper and needed some extra time to heal. 

“I’m good,” Dean answered, smiling, tapping the side of Castiel’s water glass with his bottle. “Designated driver again?” 

“Yes. Gabriel likes to drink. I don’t.” He shrugged his shoulders a little bit. “Your boyfriend drank last time too. Did you drive?” 

“Yeah, we’re not very good role models. You’re smarter than me anyways, I could have told you that.” Dean never thought too much about it, it had never been much of a problem. He didn’t get wasted before he drove, and a few beers didn’t seem to do more than make him laugh a little harder and tell even worse jokes than usual. 

“I don’t believe that. I couldn’t be an engineer. Intelligence is difficult to compare.” Castiel said this very matter-of-factly, giving his head a small nod. Dean smiled softly and shook his head. “You shouldn’t drink and drive though.”

“You’re right, but I don’t have enough self-restraint to be the designated driver.” Dean had plenty of shortcomings and he’d learned to just live with them, brushing them off the best he could. “Is your brother performing again tonight then?” Castiel nodded his head, turning his glass in his hands. “Cool. My boyfriend is, too. He does pretty much every week. It’s nice to have someone around to talk to,” Dean admitted. It’s not quite as crowded as last week, at least for now. 

“I believe Gabriel intends on performing regularly again. I also enjoy having someone to talk to. I don’t talk to many people.” It wasn’t hard to believe that, not with how stiff and uncomfortable Castiel looked here. He had started to relax during their run-ins at the music building, but here he was obviously out of his element and Dean could see that clearly. The last week he’d relaxed after they’d talked for a while, though, so Dean’s hopeful that will happen again. It was no fun being stuck somewhere you didn’t want to be, feeling nervous and uncomfortable. 

“He’s really good. You said he owns a business, right?” Dean leaned against the table, careful of his injured arm while he did. 

“Yes. A coffee shop and bakery,” Castiel said, a warm smile crossing his face. It reminded Dean of the kind of look he was sure he had when he talked about Sam. 

“Oh yeah? He should talk to Benny then, he’s a chef. Is it nearby? I’m sure he makes a killing, working next to a college.” Dean had always enjoyed coffee and ever since he’d become a student here that had morphed into something akin to an addiction. Nearly every morning he had to have a cup or two or three and now he’d usually end up stopping midday to grab another. He wasn’t sure that it really did anything for him anymore, but the mere act of getting it made him feel like he was reenergized – or at least putting in an effort to be. 

“It’s just off of Jardine and Roof. He was lucky to get such a prime location, and he’s proved himself well with it.” Castiel still had that proud little smile clinging to his lips, and it made Dean smile as well.

“Oh, I think I know what you’re talking about. I’ve been meaning to stop by some time. I guess I’ll have to, now. Think you can get me a family and friends discount?” He was mostly kidding, he shelled out too much for coffee on a regular basis, he might as well support his friend’s family while he was doing it.

“I- I don’t know that Gabriel has a discount,” Castiel said uncertainly, looking vaguely troubled, and Dean laughed.

“It’s a joke, Castiel. You gotta lighten up, I tell you every time I see you.” 

“I’m not a light person.” Castiel’s tone was so indignant that Dean has to bite back another laugh, not wanting to insult him. 

“Nothing wrong with that. I’m just saying, you might want to get used to the jokes if you’re gonna keep hanging around with me.” Castiel was quiet for a long moment, long enough that Dean started to wonder if he’d overstepped by inviting himself over to the table in the first place.

“Who said that I want to keep hanging around with you?” Dean floundered for an answer, his mouth opening and closing a few times. 

“I didn’t- well I just assumed, ‘cause we’ve been talking, and we hung out last week…” Dean’s was about ready to bolt from the table and find a place as far across the bar as he could manage. Castiel looked dead serious for a few exceedingly torturous seconds before a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. 

“It’s a joke, Dean. You’ve got to lighten up.” He was still barely smiling, but there was a glint to his eyes. Dean took a moment to make sure that he wasn’t going to change his mind, that this was really a joke, and then he was laughing so hard that he was bent in half in his seat, eyes tearing up. “It wasn’t that funny,” Castiel said with a frown, only succeeding in making Dean laugh harder. 

“You really got me,” Dean managed after the laughter died down a little. He wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. The first performer had already made their way to the stage without him even noticing.

“Apparently.” Castiel was smiling too, though, a little wider than before. “I hope you can meet Gabriel before you have to leave tonight.” 

“I hope so. Benny didn’t have to work today, so I don’t think he’ll be so tired.” Dean has been trying to be more aware of how Benny’s feeling, too. He can’t shake the thought that he’d done something to make his boyfriend so upset last week, and he didn’t want to see it happen again. 

Dean and Castiel chatted on and off through the first several sets until Benny came on stage and Dean turned his full attention there. Again, he got hardly more than a glance from his boyfriend, even when he whistled and cheered, but it he didn’t let it bother him too much. If he really cared he’d go up to the front or mention it to Benny, but it wasn’t a big deal. That’s what he told himself, at least. The little pull of jealousy he felt was juvenile, at best, and he didn’t want to dignify it with any action.

A few minutes after he came off stage, Benny joined them at their table, dropping a kiss to Dean’s head before he settled in the chair next to him, guitar case under the table. “Thin crowd tonight,” he commented, glancing around the bar. It had stayed a little calmer, but Dean really didn’t mind. Sometimes the busy nights left him with a pounding headache and the performances could stretch on for hours. They usually waited until everyone had performed to leave, especially since on occasion they handed out little prizes or did raffles at the end of the night. It was never anything much, a Starbucks gift card or a free movie ticket, but just enough incentive to stick around.

“You sounded very good, though,” Castiel said, nodding at Benny. “Dean told me you come here every week?”

“Yeah. I’ve been performing for years, though. Used to do it with my family back when I was a kid. We all could play something.” Dean had never really figured out exactly what transpired between Benny and his family. He talked about them sparingly, just enough for Dean to realize that his childhood hadn’t been awesome and he was better off away from some of them. 

“I liked last week’s song better, though,” Dean said, laying his hand on Benny’s knee and giving it a squeeze. “It’s one of my favorites.” 

“Crowd doesn’t want to hear the same crap every week, sugar.” Benny tipped back his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Obviously, I’m just saying. Do you need another drink?” Benny nodded and Dean pushed himself up, turning towards the bar. Castiel’s eyes went wide and Dean could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be right back,” Dean added, patting Castiel’s shoulder as he passed. Poor guy really was not a social man at all, but it was really sweet for him to come out to support his brother even though he clearly wasn’t the biggest fan of the setting. 

Dean returned with a beer for Benny as well as a fresh glass of water for Castiel, getting settled back into his chair and at Benny’s side when Gabriel came up on stage again. Dean was looking forward to watching him again, and with good reason. Even with a smaller audience, the room was booming with laughter by the time Gabriel finished and headed off the stage. 

Some people were much different on stage than they were in person. Benny didn’t have too striking a difference, but he played up his accent, slow and syrupy, and he winked and flirted with the crowd to pull them along. Dean wasn’t sure quite what to expect when Gabriel came to the table, but it certainly wasn’t the same ball of energy that he saw on stage. 

“You could at least get a soda, Cas,” Gabriel said, dropping himself in the last open chair next to his brother and plunking his own drink on the table, some sort of cocktail with fruit hanging off the side of the glass. “Are these your mysterious friends from last week? Oh, right, I saw you sing. Benny? You’re pretty damned good, buddy.” Gabriel stuck his hand out to shake Benny’s hand. “That means you’re Dean. Gotta admit, I thought Cas was lying when he said he made a friend.” He shook Dean’s hand as well, stretching across the table to do so before he sat back in his chair. 

“That’s rude,” Castiel said, looking to Gabriel with an expression of exasperation that could only come from years of putting up with someone. 

“Well, here I am, in the flesh,” Dean said. Up close, Gabriel seemed even more different than Castiel. He was loud, and his voice was dripping with expression, something that made his jokes sell incredibly well up on stage and captured the conversation with ease just between the four of them. His eyes were definitely not Castiel’s bright blue, instead a caramelized hazel, intriguing in their own right. “Castiel was telling me that you own a coffee shop?”

“Castiel. Have you been making this poor kid use your full name all night? Cas is fine,” Gabriel announced. Dean glanced at Castiel, who shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t tell him what to call me. Cas is fine,” he agreed. “I just don’t think to tell people. It’s just my name.” Dean got the impression that Castiel had this conversation with his brother many times, especially the way Gabriel rolls his eyes before he takes a sip of his cocktail.

“Anyways, I do own a coffee shop. Sweet Sinsations. Emphasis on the Sin. I bake all of our treats in house. Muffins, cakes, cookies, sometimes you can even get a good croissant out of me. Are you a student here?” Dean nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Gabriel was already barreling on. “Oh, good! Students can get a discount, and if you come in with Cas I’ll just give you a drink for free. Someone needs to get him out, not just me.” 

“I’ll have to check it out. Owning a business, that’s pretty cool, congratulations. Benny’s a chef.” Dean pats Benny’s leg, glancing over at his face. He was watching the stage, taking a moment to return to the conversation.

“Oh, a chef? I don’t think I could call myself a chef. Definitely a baker. I can make some mean baked dishes, I guess, but I’ll burn the shit out of everything else. Where do you work? How long have you been cooking? Do you specialize? You look like a chef, like you could scare your staff into gear.” 

“I apologize for him,” Castiel said before Benny could speak. “The adrenaline does something to his brain, I think.” Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes. Benny chuckled, glancing between the two. 

“I’m working out at Harry’s Restaurant right now,” Benny replied. “Pretty upscale place. Filet mignon, foie gras, all kinds of over the top dishes. I’m executive chef right now, ain’t a bad spot to be.” Benny hadn’t seemed too happy with his job lately, from what he’d told Dean, but maybe that’s just because he tended to come to him right after work and he just needed to let off steam, or maybe he didn’t want to get into it right now. 

“Damn, that place is pretty ritzy. Sure you get a lot of folks with sticks up their asses.” Dean’s only been in once or twice but he knew that statement to be true, especially with all the drama Benny’s had lately. “Must be nice to get out of there and do something else every once in a while.” 

“Thank you, brother. It keeps me sane,” Benny rumbled out with a little laugh, draining the rest of his beer. 

“Do you ever play with him?” Gabriel looked to Dean. He shifted a little, shaking his head. 

“Dean doesn’t play,” Benny answered for him, and Dean hoped that would be the end of it, but Gabriel spoke up again. 

“Didn’t you tell me that’s how you met, Cas? Dean was playing guitar?” Even though Gabriel seemed to have better confidence in his interaction, he certainly didn’t handle this situation with the grace Castiel had last week, didn’t catch up on the little cues here. Benny sat up a little straighter and looked to Dean with a frown. 

“What is he talking about?” Benny asked, gaze hardening as he looked to Dean. “I thought you said you met at the bar.” 

“Oh- well, uh… We did meet at the bar, first, and then I ran into him when I… I don’t play seriously, I just go to the music building and practice every once in a while so I’m not bothering Charlie. It’s not a big deal.” Castiel gave Dean an apologetic look over the table, and Dean gave him a slight smile in return. It wasn’t his fault, though Dean was surprised that he’d talked to his brother about him. If he really was as anti-social as Gabriel made him out to be then it wouldn’t really be that unusual, he supposed, but he didn’t expect it. Dean looked back to Benny, who looked rather displeased to be hearing about this just now. 

“Not a performer, huh? That’s what Castiel says too, even though he can shred like nothing else. I’m getting another drink.” Gabriel got up from the table, leaving an uncomfortable blanket of silence behind. 

Eventually, Dean cleared his throat, glancing over at Benny. “I’ll play something for you some time if you want. I’m just nowhere as good as you,” he said. His boyfriend’s face smoothed over slightly and Dean felt a little weight lift from his chest. Dean looked up as Gabriel returned to the table with another brightly colored cocktail, catching the frown etched into Castiel’s face. 

“Are you guys here every week?” Gabriel asked, seemingly oblivious to the tension that had arisen. Maybe he was just a really good actor, he did seem to be putting on a performance the whole time that he spoke. 

“Yeah, just about,” Dean answered, happy to turn the subject away from him for a moment. He didn’t like lying to Benny, and he’d never really thought about it as lying before, he just never really thought to bring up his guitar and he didn’t want it to seem like he was competing. 

“Neat-o. I think I’m going to be trying to come here every week too. It’s a pretty nice place. Earlier show than some other places too. Working a coffee shop can be a bitch, I’ve got to be there at the crack of dawn, earlier if I’ve got a lot of baking to do.” 

“That’s generally what people use employees for, Gabriel. To assist with those things.” Castiel looked equally relieved to be moving the conversation away. 

“No point in running my own shop if I’m not there,” Gabriel replied with a shrug. 

“He’s just too proud to let anyone else help,” Castiel explained, looking at Dean as he did. Even though there were three of them at the table, Dean always felt like Castiel was looking right at him, but he was sure that’s just because he only noticed it when it was happening to him. 

Benny stayed quiet the rest of their time there, and Gabriel dominated most of the conversation. It was easy to see how stand-up suited him so well, and Dean was sure his ability to make endless conversation helped in the business world as well. After the final performers closed out the night, Dean finished up his beer and took a pause in Gabriel’s flow to part ways. 

“We should head out now, sounds like you could too. We’ll see you next week, I’ll probably stop by the shop sooner, too. It was nice to meet you, Gabriel.” Dean pushed himself up, grabbing Benny’s guitar case for him and waving at the other two as they headed out. Benny was silent even as they climbed into the car. During the ride home, there was only the sound of the radio, blaring out something dubbed “80’s Rock Anthems” that featured a wild mix of genres that could almost be classified as rock, but Dean didn’t bother changing it. 

Benny didn’t speak until they were inside the apartment. He slipped off his shoes and hung up his coat before he turned to Dean. “I don’t like you keeping things from me.” 

“I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you,” Dean replied quickly, moving to Benny’s side. “It just never came up. I have a guitar case in my room,” he pointed out. Benny frowned at that, practically glowering at Dean. “Babe,” Dean tried again, stepping forward and touching Benny’s cheek, but his boyfriend turned away. 

“Don’t. I ain’t in the mood tonight. You made me feel like shit all week ‘cause of what happened last time, and then you pull this? You can sleep on the couch or you can go home.” Dean dropped his arm, an increasingly familiar pit digging in his stomach. 

“Benny,” he said pleadingly, but his boyfriend paid him no mind, turning away and heading down the hall and slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. Dean considered staying but he didn’t want a repeat of the week before. Still, he found himself laying down on the couch and staring up at the ceiling for hours. By the time he caved and headed home it was three in the morning.

There had to be a way to stop this from happening. Dean knew he was missing something. He felt a wave of guilt when he saw his guitar when he headed into his bedroom and he shoved it under his bed. He didn’t know exactly why he lied about it last week. At least Castiel had gone along with his story again, Dean really owed him thanks. 

Dean’s mind wandered to the earlier part of the night instead, grateful for something else to focus on. He was friends with Castiel now, he thought. They must be, if he was willing to tell his brother about him and introduce them. Gabriel was nice, if a bit much. Dean really did want to try out his coffee shop, it was really hard to get coffee wrong and to land a spot right next to campus he must be doing something right. 

Dean could meet up with Castiel for coffee and thank him for just going along with him and apologize for Benny being so short tonight. He’d visit Benny after classes and apologize to him too, and maybe he’d have cooled down. That could work. Dean could make him dinner, give him a massage and whatever else he wanted. They’d work it out. 

Finally, with the clock creeping ever closer to four, Dean was able to close his eyes and drift to sleep. In the very least, he had a plan  
 


	6. High Hopes

Dean didn’t have a plan. Well, he did, but it didn’t work out when he didn’t have Castiel’s phone number. How was he supposed to casually meet him for coffee when he didn’t have any damned way to get ahold of him? Turned out Castiel didn’t have a Facebook, or any social media that Dean could find. The best idea that he had was to simply go back to the music building and hope to run into him there. 

It felt strange, being in the building without his guitar slung over his shoulder, but he was still avoiding it. It was almost like he was angry at the instrument itself, like it could have caused this. That was stupid, Dean knew, but he couldn’t help it. He hated being at odds with Benny, and he didn’t really understand why he hadn’t told him about it in the first place. 

It didn’t take long to locate Castiel. There’s one practice room that he seemed to frequent and Dean had grown accustomed to seeing him there. Dean paused by the door, peering in through the little window. Castiel looked entirely focused, eyes closed as he played. Dean was impressed that whatever he’s playing must be from memory; his fingers were absolutely soaring across the strings. Sure, Dean memorizes everything he plays, but a handful of chords was much different than what Castiel was ripping out of his cello right now. It was startling when Castiel missed a note and his eyes popped open, bright blue suddenly colliding with Dean’s eyes, and he realized how fucking weird it is that he’s just standing there staring. He cleared his throat (not that Castiel could hear it anyways) and knocked on the door, giving Castiel a small smile while he waves. A moment later and Castiel was pushing himself up, pulling the door open. 

“Hey,” Dean said softly, stepping forward and leaning against the door to hold it open. Castiel shuffled back, sitting again and settling his cello between his legs. 

“Hello,” Castiel replied. “I’m glad to see you back here, I wasn’t sure I would after last night.” 

The comment surprised Dean, and his cheeks felt hot for a moment. “Oh. I’m, uh…I’m not back to play or anything,” he says uncertainly. “I just… Well, I owe you a thanks for covering my ass last night. Benny can get…” Dean trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s not Benny. It’s me. I should have said something to him earlier, or not said anything at all.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyways, you really didn’t have to cover for me. So thanks.” 

Castiel tilted his head a little, frowning. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell him, but it’s not my place to say anything. You’re my friend, of course I would ‘cover’ for you.” 

“We’re friends?” Dean replied, a grin stretching across his lips.

“Well, yes, I would consider us to be friends. We spend time together. I enjoy your company. That doesn’t happen often.” Castiel said it with such a straight face Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “What? Are we not friends?” 

“No, no, we’re friends,” Dean assured quickly. “Most people just don’t say it like that. But yeah, we’re friends.” Castiel nodded, looking down at his cello for a moment, running his fingers up and down the strings. Silence overtook the room for a moment, and the sounds of the other students practicing suddenly sounded a lot louder.

“You should keep playing,” Castiel blurted out suddenly, picking his head up to look at Dean, his gaze startlingly intense. Dean’s mouth dropped open, and he was sure he should have some kind of reply, but his mind is blank, and Castiel took the opportunity. “You play very well. I’ve heard you. I know what talent is. You have it.” 

“I’m not that good, Cas…” Dean started, but the look on Castiel’s face shut him up quickly.

“You think I don’t know? Dean, I’ve heard bad playing. I’ve heard bad singing. Everyone thinks they can play guitar. Half of the people I went to college with in my undergraduate degree learned guitar for their program. They were awful. Benny-“ Castiel cut off suddenly, shaking his head. “My point is, you’re very good at what you do. You shouldn’t hide it, and you shouldn’t stop. You’d be depriving yourself of a great joy if you were to give it up.” All throughout his speech, Castiel’s eyes never left Dean, not for a moment, and the intensity of his gaze made Dean want to squirm. The addition of his passionate speech made Dean that much more uncomfortable, but he’s absolutely flattered as well. He held Castiel’s gaze for a long moment before realizing that the other man is probably expecting some kind of response.

“I…I’ll keep that in mind, Cas. I’m not a musician, or anything…” Castiel scoffed audibly, but Dean continued. “But I don’t really want to quit. I appreciate it. Besides, I’d miss bumping into you.” That made the corner of Castiel’s mouth twitch, giving Dean a swell of satisfaction. Castiel was so aloof sometimes, seeing any kind of response was a success. “I can get out of your way, now. You looked like you were really in the zone,” Dean said, getting ready to turn. 

“Don’t.” Dean froze, arching an eyebrow as he looked back at Castiel. “You can stay and listen, if you’d like. I can always use an audience.” Dean bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. He didn’t have class for a little while, and it wasn’t like he had a lot to do in the meantime. 

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll listen for a minute,” Dean said, turning and dropping his backpack, nudging it the corner with his foot, pulling the piano bench out and sitting down.

There was a moment of absolute silence where Castiel was looking down at his cello, fingers planted on the strings. It stretched on long enough that Dean considered asking again if he should leave. Before he could do that, though, Castiel took a deep breath through his nose and drew the bow across the strings in an easy, fluid motion. Dean knew that Castiel could play well, and he assumed he had to have some kind of connection to music. He was here almost every time Dean came here to practice himself, and Dean doesn’t think that anyone got a graduate degree in music performance without caring about it a whole fucking lot. He never really understood until just this moment how much of himself Castiel had to pour into this. 

Castiel’s eyes had fallen closed, but his movements remained smooth and coordinated. The sound of the cello ballooned to feel the room entirely, reverberating off the walls. Dean didn’t understand how Castiel managed to get so much out of one instrument. As the music built, Castiel started to move. It started as a gentle sway, but it grew alongside the music. His fingers flew over the strings, a deep wrinkle digging in between his eyebrows as his entire face contorted with effort. It was a journey just to watch and every single time Castiel pauses, Dean found himself hoping that it wasn’t the end yet. Dean didn’t think that he’d ever seen anyone embody their music the way that Castiel was right now. It made Dean’s chest ache, especially because Castiel was so normally so walled off. Awkward and quiet and he was so transparent right now, each shift in the tone of his piece reflected in his body language. There was a big push in the music and Castiel hunched slightly over the cello as his fingers climbed up the instrument. There’s a raucous climax that left Dean’s heart beating unevenly in his chest. Castiel’s expression relaxed as slow the music began going soft, gentle. There was a note of longing as it faded away, echoed briefly on the man’s face. 

The silence following the final, delicate note was roaring in Dean’s ears. Breaking it felt wrong, so he didn’t dare speak. He hardly allowed himself to breathe, and Castiel was frozen as well, bow hovering just over the strings. Slowly, his eyes opened, focusing in on Dean. 

“Sorry.” Dean was absolutely baffled as to why an apology is the first thing out of Castiel’s mouth after that. “I didn’t think I had the whole movement memorized yet but I was wrong. I know that it’s long.”

“Dude, that was fucking awesome!” Dean exclaimed. Suddenly, he was ashamed Castiel had ever heard him play anything. It was nowhere near the level that he’d just heard. He definitely, definitely doesn’t understand why Castiel was trying to convince him to keep playing now either, but he ignored that for the time being. 

“That was my reaction the first time I heard Dvorak as well.” Castiel had a wry little smile on his lips, relaxing back into his chair, letting his cello tilt between his legs. He glanced to his sheet music, on a stand next to him, his expression falling slightly. “I have some work to do still. Memory work, cleaning up several passages.” 

“I don’t know, sounded pretty damned good to me,” Dean said with a shrug. “I’ll be your guinea pig anytime, though.” His phone buzzed against his thigh and he dug it out of his pocket, frowning when he saw the time. “Oh shit, I gotta take off, my class is starting in five minutes.” He pushed himself up, grabbing his backpack and pulling it on. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He reached for the door before stopping and shaking his head, pulling out his phone again. “We’re friends, right? I don’t have your phone number or anything,” he said, unlocking the screen and handing his phone to Castiel. “We’ve got to at least get together to check out your brother’s coffee, and I can’t do that just hoping you’ll show up.” Castiel held the phone in his hand for a moment, taking a beat before he responds. 

“So…you’re asking for my phone number?” The uncertainty in his voice made Dean laugh softly, nodding his head. 

“Yeah, I am. Is that a problem?” 

“Oh, no, no.” Castiel shook his head before typing it in quickly, handing it back to Dean. “I’m sorry if I made you late.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I do it to myself most the time anyways.” Castiel’s number saved and phone back in his pocket, Dean smiled and pulled the door open. “I’ll shoot you a text in a bit,” he promised, and Castiel nodded seriously. Dean could feel his eyes on him as he headed out, taking large strides as he exited the music building and started towards his engineering class. 

What he’d just heard clung to his mind. Without really meaning to, Dean could be a little bit of an asshole about music. He stubbornly listened to the same bands he had since he started listening to music when he was twelve. He had no right to be as uppity about it as he was, considering the fact he really just copied what his dad had listened to. Sam could testify to just what a jerk Dean was about it because Dean would never give him a break, he always had some sort of comment about what he was listening to. Classical music was high, high on the list of things that Dean would never let slide even though he never actually listened to it alone. He’d heard it in movies, background tracks and featured in ritzy, old-timey parties, but it wasn’t anything he’d ever give a shot. That’s why it was so very surprising that whatever Castiel had just played for him was so wrapped around his thoughts, chasing him even as he rushed into class, just a minute late. Castiel had said the name of what he played, Dean thought, so he scrawls a messy ‘Devorjak’ in the corner of his notebook before settling in and looking up at the board. 

Half an hour later, Dean’s realized that he’s absorbed absolutely nothing. Instead, he’s been replaying Castiel’s performance over and over in his head. The music, of course, but the expressions that had danced across Castiel’s face were unforgettable as well. It almost felt like he shouldn’t have seen it. There was such raw emotion, bleeding out and Dean had been only a few feet away to soak it all up. Close enough to touch. He hadn’t, Dean hadn’t even thought about it, but there was a heaviness in his stomach that made him feel almost guilty. He stared down at his notebooks for the rest of the class, outlining a corner where the lines met the margin. 

Why had everything felt so bad lately? Maybe it was just the stress of classes and working and keeping up with everything. He didn’t much like that thought, he knew so many people that were much higher achievers. At least it was some kind of answer though. This weekend he’d try to set aside some time to relax. A nice dinner with Benny. See if Sam was up to anything, they’d get together too. Dean was so wrapped in his own thoughts it was a surprise when the professor finished up his lecture and started erasing the board. He stuffed his notebook back in his notebook, pulling his phone out as he headed out and towards his next class. Castiel put his full name, as if Dean would have more than one Castiel in his phone, but it made Dean smile a little when he clicked on it. 

Dean: Hey, this is Dean. When can we go get coffee? 

He didn’t expect any kind of immediate reply, but by the time he was sat down and had his things out on his desk, there was a message waiting on his screen. 

Castiel: Gabriel has been asking too. The sooner we go, the sooner he’ll stop harassing me. 

Even though their encounter had been brief, Dean could definitely see the potential for harassment from Gabriel. Not in a bad way, not at all, but especially for someone like Castiel he imagined that Gabriel could be a lot. He was curious about what it must have been like growing up together. Butting heads was inevitable in all siblings, but Dean assumed they hadn’t had too rough a time because they still spent time together. That meant a lot when it was completely voluntary. 

Dean: I’m in my last class now. Want to go after? I could meet you at 3

There was a stack of homework Dean needed to get on tonight, especially if he was looking to take a break that weekend, so a little extra caffeine wouldn’t hurt. Given his complete and total lack of focus in the last class, he tried to make sure that he was remaining engaged this time. That didn’t stop him from sneaking a peak at his phone after a few minutes, though. 

Castiel: Yes. I will meet you there at 3:00. Here’s the address. 

Even in his messages Castiel held that same slightly stilted, awkward tone that he had in conversation. Dean couldn’t quite place his fingers on what it was, but there was just something different about how he spoke. Maybe it was more formal than Dean was used to, maybe he just wasn’t as sarcastic as Dean, maybe it was just a dialect thing. Whatever it was, it made Dean smile as he sat his phone down a returned his attention to his notes. 

It was a surprise that Dean hadn’t ended up at the shop in the past. A mere five minute walk from his class, it was stuffed between a Subway and a used book store in a slightly run down little strip mall just outside of campus. It almost didn’t look big enough to be its own place from the outside, but when Dean opened the door he was greeted with a wave of delicious scents, coffee and fresh baked bread, muffins or scones, something sweet. There were several small tables around the room and almost all of them were full. After a moment of scanning the room, Dean spotted Castiel at one of the tables in the back corner. Readjusting his backpack over his shoulder, Dean headed over towards the other man, smiling as he pulled out the chair opposite him and settled down. 

“Oh, Dean. Hello.” Earbuds hung from Castiel’s ears but he pulled them out as he looked up at Dean. “You’re very punctual.” 

“You sound surprised. Should I be offended?” Dean grinned, sliding his backpack under the table and between his feet. 

“No, I was just surprised. Because most people aren’t. Not that you are- are like most people.” Castiel’s cheeks darkened and Dean grinned wider, shaking his head. That difference in the way they spoke, it seemed to make it easier for Dean to fluster Castiel. Dean wouldn’t necessarily call himself an asshole all the time, but he was well aware that he had a tendency to push and tease, his brother would gladly confirm that. 

“I’m just kidding. You been waiting here long? What’s good here?” 

“No, I’ve only been here about ten minutes myself. I’m not even going to bother telling you what I think is good because Gabriel will veto it and give you whatever he wants.” As if he could hear them talking about him, Gabriel appeared around the corner, grinning as he approached the table. 

“Look who it is! I’m a little surprised Cassie managed to drag you here, I’m always telling him to bring people and he never does.” Castiel folded his arms across his chest, looking up at his brother petulantly.

“Hey, you told me there might be free coffee in it for me. I’m never gonna turn that down.” Castiel’s gaze turned to Dean at that, looking equally as frustrated with that comment as Gabriel’s. 

“I also have friends who happen to enjoy my company,” he grumbled. It was the second time that day Castiel had called him his friend, and Dean had a feeling that wasn’t a title that a large number of people had bestowed upon them. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Gabriel replied, seemingly completely undisturbed by Castiel’s distaste at his commentary. “So, Dean-o, how do you feel about brownies?” 

“Is that a trick question?” Dean questioned, eyebrow peaked slightly. 

“Not in the least. I’ve got this fucking awesome double fudge brownie, you’re gonna love it. I’m not telling you what’s in your coffee either, but you’ll like it. I’m right almost 100% of the time.” Castiel sighed loudly at that, which Gabriel ignored completely, but his voice did take on a more somber tone as he spoke again. “Hey, sorry if I caused any shit last night. I didn’t mean to out you to your boyfriend or anything. Everybody’s got weird hobbies.” 

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Dean shook his head, smiling at Gabriel a little. He didn’t like people apologizing to him, he didn’t ever really know what to do with an apology and it wasn’t awesome having people apologize for upsetting his boyfriend when it was Dean’s fault anyways. “I’m sure everyone will have forgotten about it by next week anyways.” 

“I’m not going to be there next week! It’s my anniversary with…” Gabriel stopped, twisting his head this way and that before pointing across the room at a young man with dark hair hunched over a textbook with two cups in front of him. “See that cute guy over there? That’s my boyfriend. Kevin, come here!” He looked up, glancing around a moment before finding Gabriel (not that he was easy to miss, waving his arm the way he was) and pushing himself up, joining them at the table. “You know Cas, obviously. This is his friend, Dean.” Gabriel looped his arm through Kevin’s as soon as the other was close enough, tugging him into his side. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you,” Kevin replied. “I’m sure you heard, but my name’s Kevin.” He reached out, shaking Dean’s hand. He was obviously younger than Gabriel, a little taller but more slender otherwise. 

“Nice to meet you,” Dean parroted, smiling. “You a student at KU too?” 

“Yeah, I’m pre-med.” 

“He’s here on a full-ride. Gonna be a doctor. Smart as hell, I don’t know how I tricked him into dating me,” Gabriel piped up, grinning. Every time Dean had met him he had this same energy, close to too much and absolutely unafraid of anyone else’s opinion. “I’ll let you get back to studying,” Gabriel said, kissing Kevin’s cheek and patting him on the butt as he turned to walk away. “And, I will be right back with a brownie and a coffee,” he added, winking at Dean as he left. 

“I told you he was just going to feed you whatever he wanted,” Castiel said, watching his brother leave with a small shake of his head. “At least he lets me choose my own drinks most of the time now. I don’t know how he has convinced Kevin to date him either.” 

“You don’t like Kevin?” Dean glanced back at the other man’s table, watching him for a moment while he settled back in his seat.

“No, it’s not that at all. Kevin is very sweet, and incredibly intelligent. Not to say that my brother is not, but he is very….crass. You’ve met him, you understand.” 

“Is that why Kevin doesn’t come to the open mic?” 

“No, he has an anatomy lab he tutors at that time.” Castiel glanced to Kevin again, smiling slightly. “He asks me to record them sometimes though, because he wants to hear Gabriel. For some reason. They’ve been dating since Kevin’s second year here, and he’s graduating this semester, so I guess he’s pretty invested at this point. I’m happy for them, even if I don’t understand.” There’s a soft tinge to Castiel’s expression, something gentle around his eyes, the corners of his mouth pulled up, a more open appearance than Dean’s used to seeing from him. 

“Shit, that’s pretty cool, good for them.” Dean paused, drumming his fingers on the table top. “Do you have a cute young boyfriend hiding around here too? Or is it a cute young girlfriend instead?” He gave Castiel a wry smile, wiggling his eyebrows. The other man’s expression pinched in, something Dean saw much more often, and he shook his head. 

“No, I don’t have a romantic partner, but it gives me more time to focus on my studies.” It was such an archaic thought it made Dean laugh, which only made Castiel’s expression pull in tighter. “It’s not funny, I enjoy my studies.” 

“Oh, I’m not doubting that at all, man. I just don’t know anyone else who would say it that way. I’m not about to judge you, you’re pretty cool the way you are,” Castiel seemed to turn that over in his mind a few times before he nodded. 

“Thank you,” he replied, looking up as Gabriel appeared at the table. 

“Two brownies, an americano for my favorite brother and the monthly special cappuccino for his friend here.” Gabriel sat everything down, clapping Dean’s shoulder. “If we weren’t busy I’d wait here and make you tell me what you thought about everything as you tried it, but I’ll have to depend on Cas for a full report. Come back any time, though, we’ve been pretty packed lately but I’ll always slip you a free drink. See you around!” With that he bustled off back behind the counter, leaving Dean with a table full of treats that looked and smelled pretty damn amazing. 

“You were saying Gabriel owns this place?” Dean questioned, pulling his cappuccino in front of him. There were a few lines on top leading down into what looked distinctly like a dick, but he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. What kind of establishments made dick art in their cappuccinos? 

“Yes, he does. And yes, that is a penis in your foam art. I’ve told Gabriel he’ll lose customers if he does that and he insists that he only does it for family and friends but I doubt that is true.” Dean already had the cup to his mouth by the time Castiel started to speak and he choked before spitting his drink out despite his attempt to muffle his laughter. 

“Fuck, Cas,” he coughed out, reaching for a napkin and wiping his face and then the table in front of them. “He does, sorry-“ Dean cut off, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth again, shaking his head. “He does seem to be doing pretty well for himself. This place is packed, especially for a Thursday afternoon.” 

“He does. I wasn’t sure if he would when he first opened it but I have to say it’s been going well. It’s been a little over a year now. He worked in shops before this, picking up what he could to learn how to be successful. Some people say he’s a good entrepreneur because they find him charming.” Castiel’s voice was dry, but there was still that gleam of affection in his eye that made Dean think he was really proud of his brother. Finally recovered from sending cappuccino out of his nose, Dean reached for his brownie, forgoing the provided fork to break a piece off the corner with his hands instead. His eyes widened a little, and he groaned around the morsel. 

“Damn, no wonder he’s stayed open. This might be the best brownie I’ve ever had!” Dean grabbed another piece, eyes closed as he chewed it. They opened to a very curious expression on Castiel’s face, almost judgemental but it seemed there was something else too. “Wha’?” he questioned, mouth still half-full. 

“Nothing. You might want to close your mouth before you end up spitting all of that on the table too.” Dean rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as well, swallowing what was in his mouth and grabbing his drink once more. 

“Hey, just be glad that I didn’t spit it on you. Most of it was just on me. What is this, anyways?” He took a sip, licking his lips while he tried to place the flavor. “Cinnamon, for sure. Felt that bitch in my nose. Something else too, like…” He trailed off, taking another sip and shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not good at this. Something sweet, though. I’m impressed, everything’s been awesome.” 

“Gabriel will give you free coffee, too. He’s very generous. That’s another reason I worried when he opened his business. He’s got a very large heart, I’d hate for that to be the reason he failed. I think he’s learned where to draw the line, though.” Castiel sipped at his own drink, and a silence fell between the two of them while they enjoyed their little meal. It was interrupted after a few minutes by Castiel’s phone buzzing against the table. He turned it over, glancing at the time on the screen. “I need to leave now. I have a rehearsal beginning soon, and I like to get there early.” He reached under the table, grabbing his own bag and pushing himself up.

“Oh! Well, thanks, I’m definitely going to be here all the time now. Gabriel’s gonna regret his free coffee offer by the time I’m done with him. I’ll see you around, Cas.” Dean grinned, nodding a little at the other man. Castiel hesitated a moment before nodding as well and turning away, headed out the door. Dean’s brownie and coffee were almost gone anyways, so he polished them off and got his stuff together, tossing out the garbage and leaving the plate and fork from the brownie in the dish bin. He stopped by the counter and stuffed a few dollars in the tip jar too, he’d feel bad leaving without paying anything at all. 

Now that Dean had Castiel’s number, he found himself talking to the other man more and more often. At first, it was just checking in, thanking him again for coffee, asking if he wanted to meet at the shop again, returning Castiel’s notebook he left behind the last time they met. The more they talked, the easier it was to talk, though. Just as he’d learned in person, Castiel’s dry tone gave way to some viciously funny humor when he was more comfortable, and a few days into texting that started to shine through. Benny held onto a bad mood for a day or two but the guitar incident blew over and things seemed to settle between them as well. So much of what had seemed to hang over Dean in the past weeks finally looked to be easing up, and he could breathe again. 

A lingering feeling of uneasiness followed Dean to the next weeks open mic, however. He just didn’t want Benny getting upset over the same thing again, but there was no reason to. Grabbing a beer on his way in, Dean made his way to one of the tables closer to the front. It would just be him tonight, since Gabriel was out celebrating, and he figured he could cheer a little extra for Benny tonight, show off for him and help keep smoothing things over. Benny preferred to hang out in the little space that they had for the performers even when he was going on later and Dean realized suddenly that it was a little lonely sitting here at the table by himself. He’d gotten used to having some company, and Castiel wasn’t texting him back either. He probably had a rehearsal or work or a life, and after checking his phone for the fifth time in twenty minutes Dean shoved it in his pocket and shook his head, finishing off his beer. He thought he was hearing something at first, but there it was again. His name, coming from the little crowd in front of the stage. He glanced around, surprised to meet a familiar pair of blue eyes. 

“Cas?” He watched the other make his way over to the table, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? And what are you wearing?” A small smile had been on Castiel’s face but it morphed to a frown as he paused at the edge of the table and looked down at his shirt. 

“A sweater,” he answered, setting the glass of water in his hand on the table and climbing into the chair across from Dean. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“Is it a turtleneck?” Castiel’s frown deepened and he tugged at the neck of the sweater, fidgeting. 

“Yes. I don’t see the problem.” He looked down over his sweater again, looking up when Dean laughed. 

“I haven’t seen anyone in one of those since the Scooby gang,” he teased, giving Castiel another once over. It wasn’t a bad look, but it was a surprise. Outside of 70’s sitcoms, he doesn’t know that he’s ever seen a man in a turtleneck, and definitely not anytime around the college. Somehow, though, Castiel seems to pull it off. The color is helping, a deep blue that’s a stark contrast against his skin, bringing out a new layer of color in his eyes. That first beer must have hit Dean harder than he thought, because he’d usually never notice a shirt bringing out someone’s eye color, so he settles back and shakes his head. “You missed the first question, anyways. I thought Gabriel wasn’t coming tonight.” 

“Oh, he’s not.” It might’ve been a trick of the light, but Dean could’ve sworn that Castiel was blushing. “I enjoy seeing other performers though. I’ve gotten used to the routine.” His gaze met Dean’s and stayed there for a long moment, until Dean looked back to his beer bottle, picking at the corner of the label. 

“Sweet, I could use the company anyways,” he said, trying to recapture the carefree tone their conversations usually held. “Remember the girl who plays piano and screams? She’s here again tonight, so that’ll be a joy. We might want to move away from the speakers for that one.” Castiel’s lip quirked at that and Dean’s chest immediately felt looser. 

“There’s always such an interesting blend here,” Castiel mused, looking to the stage. “So much talent and so much…” There was a beat of silence before he looked to Dean. “Shit.” It was the kind of thing that was still so much a surprise to hear Castiel say, Dean was lucky he wasn’t drinking anything and avoided a repeat of the cappuccino incident. 

“The claws are out tonight, aren’t they?” Castiel shrugged nonchalantly, but a self-satisfied kind of smile clung to his lips as he looked to the stage again. He and Dean both joined in the polite applause as the singer left the stage, and Castiel turned to Dean once more as they set for the next person.

“I was thinking about what happened last week,” he started, and Dean put up his hand, shaking his head.

“Hey, I said it’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.” 

“I’m not worried about it,” Castiel deadpanned. “Benny knows that you play now. Your music is not…it’s not like mine. Not everyone appreciates classical music and I won’t pass judgement for that. I understand it’s unique, but you have a talent that’s much more accessible. I’ve heard you, Dean. Not just playing, but singing as well.” 

Dean paled slightly at that, the grip on his beer bottle suddenly tighter. He tried not to be too loud, he knew he was practicing in a building full of musicians, real musicians. People who were dedicating their lives to their craft, not just fucking around on a pawn shop guitar. Every once in a while, he’d lose himself in the music, usually late at night when he was sure he was alone, but he’d seen Castiel around enough to know that man was there more than Dean could ever keep track of. “Cas, I really don’t-“ 

“Listen, to me, Dean.” Castiel wasn’t one to cut anyone off in the middle of the sentence, and his gaze was set directly on Dean even as the next performer began. Even though Dean was used to Castiel’s sometimes overly intense interactions, this was more than that. It was like he was trying to bore his point into Dean with his eyes and it made Dean’s throat go dry. “You are gifted. I can’t force you to perform, but I think you’d be depriving the world a great joy by hiding yourself because you don’t believe you’re good enough. You would have Gabriel and Benny and myself here in the audience supporting you. You’ve been here every week as well, you know some of the people who come through here, you have to know that you far surpass them.”

Shock had Dean’s blood pounding in his ears, drowning out the sound of the singer on stage and the crowded bar. He hoped he sounded decent and he loved playing, but he never thought he’d be good enough for anyone to care. It was bizarre hearing someone that Dean knew was so phenomenal at what he did speak so passionately about hearing Dean. Any argument he had against at least trying sounded weak even in his head and he knew it would sound even worse outloud. “Okay,” he croaked, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll… I’ll think about it. Thanks, Cas.”   
Castiel studied Dean for a long moment before he seemed to accept the answer, a smile cracking across his face. “Excellent. Would you like me to buy you another beer? I’ll be right back.” Before Dean could say anything else, Castiel was slipping away from the table and disappearing into the crowd again. 

To say that was a surprise would be an understatement. Dean had been doing his best to forget about it and hardly touched his guitar all week, but Castiel’s speech had his fingers itching to find the strings again. He was still trying to process everything when he spotted Castiel coming back through the crowd, a beer in hand and that stupid turtleneck sweater all the way up to his jaw. “Thanks,” he said as soon as Castiel was close enough, taking the beer. Castiel simply nodded and settled back, turning to the stage. 

Even by the time Benny came to perform, Dean’s mind was still clouded. It felt like so long since someone had taken such a genuine interest in what he did. Benny used to ask about his classes and work, but he’d been swamped with his own work so he’d been a little more distant lately. Sam would ask too, if they talked more, so maybe Dean was just making a bigger deal out of this than he should have been. He couldn’t shake the idea entirely, though. Maybe he could give it a shot, there were plenty of awful performers so even if Dean sucked he wouldn’t be the first and he wouldn’t be the last. There was a small, probably stupid, ray of hope tugging at Dean’s chest, and as he cheered for Benny at the end of his song, he couldn’t help but imagine himself up there, seeing the crowd cheering for him instead. 

Yeah, he’d give it a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big old delay. I'm in the midst of a masters program and the end of the semester had my brain so full it's a miracle I survived! I'm hoping to make some real progress on this instead of letting it sit and fizzle away!! Thank you for sticking with me ;o;


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